


The Truth About Lies

by Kataclysm22



Series: MurtaghxOC: The Heart Doesn't Lie [1]
Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 72
Words: 253,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kataclysm22/pseuds/Kataclysm22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tabatha is shocked to discover that her best friend since childhood is the new Dragon Rider. Now she must help him to hide his secret from the forces of evil in Alagaesia. But she has secrets of her own; secrets she isn't even aware of; secrets that Galbatorix wants. When she decides to journey with him, Tabatha discovers that the truth may very well destroy her and everything she believes in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoy my story. This was originally posted on FFN under a different name. It is now complete. Feel free to leave a comment if you feel so inclined. :)

It was a beautiful fall day in Carvahall. The sun was shining and there was a slight, crisp breeze blowing across the meadow where I lay. The wind rustled the tall grass, making it sway all around me. I could hear the sounds of the village not too far off. Horses whinnied and oxen lowed as they lumbered by with a heavy cart. Above it all, I could hear the sounds of my uncle's forge, his heavy hammer falling upon the anvil with a metallic _clink_ as he worked on his latest creation. The breeze tickled my skin and ruffled my hair, drawing it across my forehead and into my eyes. I wiped it away and closed the book I'd just finished for about the hundredth time: _A History of Alagaesia_. No matter how many times I'd asked him to borrow it, Brom always laughed and handed it over.

"You don't have it memorized yet?" he asked playfully the last time I'd come knocking on his door to dig through the mountains of books. I only smiled and took it gladly.

I came to this meadow every day, to wait for my best friend, Eragon. It had been a few days since he'd met me, though. He was out hunting in the mountains surrounding our village, the Spine. I didn't like it when he went out there; a woman from our village had died in those woods a while back, and ever since then we've believed the mountains to be cursed.

I sat up in the grass and looked around me, my eyes barely clearing the top of the grass. A farmer moved slowly along the road with his wagon, pulled by two black oxen, their hides gleaming with sweat from their heavy load. He raised a hand in greeting when he caught a glimpse of me in the meadow. I wasn't sure who he was, but I raised a hand in response anyways. We lived a simple life here in the Spine, but it was the only life I'd ever known, and I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. The only problem was the Imperial soldiers. They'd arrived not too long ago, just to keep an eye on things here in our remote village. The soldiers hadn't caused any trouble... _yet_ , but their presence was still unsettling to me.

After another minute or so, I decided that I probably wouldn't be seeing Eragon today, so I stood to go, stretching my arms above me. A bird flew overhead, and I paused to look at it, watching as it flew on black wings towards the looming mountains. As I followed its path I saw a figure moving in between the trees. When it finally emerged from the tree line, I cried out in joy.

"Eragon!" I called, waving my arm in a wide arc.

"Hello!" he replied, picking up his pace as he came towards me. When he drew nearer, I saw he was smiling, but his eyes held a note of sadness.

"You didn't get anything?" I asked when he stopped in front of me.

He shook his head sadly. "No, I didn't. Bit of a waste of three days." He shrugged and twisted his mouth, but his smile returned. "How are you, Tabatha?" he asked kindly.

"As well as ever," I replied, turning to walk with him towards the village. "Aunt Elain is trying to teach me housework, as usual, but it's so terribly boring! I don't know how she's done it for so long, sitting and sewing and cooking and cleaning all day long!" Eragon laughed at me and pushed slightly on my arm, throwing me off balance a bit.

"Don't be so hard on her, Tabby." I smiled at his use of my nickname. "She's made a good life for you all. And she and Horst took you in, besides, after your mother..."

"And I'm forever grateful that they gave me a home," I said quickly, cutting him off before he could bring up any unpleasant feelings. " I just feel like I don't belong with them, Eragon. Like I was... I don't know, like I was meant for something else... something greater." He laughed at that too.

"Don't we all?" he said ruefully. I smirked over at him as his dark eyes lit up in amusement. I punched him playfully on the arm as we drew nearer to the town.

"What are you going to do? Since you didn't get a kill?" I asked him, changing the subject quickly. He suddenly stopped and looked over at me, and then over his shoulder to check that we were alone on the single dirt road that led in and out of town. "Eragon? What's wrong?"

"Come here, Tabby," he whispered, beckoning me over to the shelter of a few trees near the road. I didn't know what he was up to, but I went over to him anyways. Reaching around to his pack, he unstrapped the top flap and pulled something out. When I saw what it was, I couldn't stifle the gasp that escaped my mouth.

"Eragon! It's beautiful! What is it?" I said. He shushed me quietly, looking around again to make sure we were still alone.

"I'm not sure, Tabby. I found it deep in the forest, just lying there. I don't know where it came from, and I've never seen anything quite like it before," he explained, examining the shining, perfectly round, sapphire blue stone. I ran my hand over the surface and found that it was completely smooth, without any kind of blemish at all. I had never seen anything like it either, and for a moment, I thought that I saw a light pulsing around it. As soon as I saw it though, it disappeared.

"What are you going to do with it?" The light off the stone reflected in Eragon's dark brown eyes. He stared at it another moment before placing it back in his pack.

"I'm going to take it to Sloan," he said, his face somber and serious. "I think I can get him to trade me meat for it."

"You could buy enough meat to last you the whole winter with that!" I exclaimed.

"That's the plan," he smirked. "I'd best be going though. I'll see you later?" I nodded in response and he jogged off, giving me a final wave over his shoulder before disappearing into the town.

I continued down the road until I got to my aunt and uncle's house on the hill near the middle of town. It was one of the larger houses in town, with the forge behind it, the fires blazing away as my uncle worked. It was growing darker as the afternoon had worn on, and Uncle Horst would be coming in soon. Aunt Elain would be making dinner right now, preparing for the boys to come in, hungry as always. I stood outside of the house for another moment, just looking at it. This was my home, and it always had been, ever since I was a baby, but I'd never truly felt at home here. There was always something that made me feel as though I didn't belong, though I couldn't put a finger on just what that _thing_ was.

Suddenly, I saw my aunt's blonde hair sticking out the kitchen window, quickly followed by her bright, round face. "Tabatha! Come inside, dear!" I smiled and waved to her before making my way into the house. "There you are!" she cooed, bustling over to me and wrapping her arms around me. She had been a good aunt to me, more of a mother really, but she was always so overprotective.

"Yes, Aunt Elain. Here I am," I replied, patting her lightly on the back. Albriech and Baldor, my cousins, suddenly burst in through the back door that led to the forge, arguing loudly about something or another.

"Boys!" Aunt Elain snapped impatiently, turning back to them. "You get back outside this instant and wash up for dinner." They shied away from her waving spoon as it danced dangerously close to their arms and backsides. They may have been men grown, but they knew better than to get on Aunt Elain's bad side.

"All right, all right!" Albriech cried indignantly. They disappeared back through the door and I couldn't help but laugh. This was becoming a nightly occurrence, but it never once lost its' amusement.

Aunt Elain hurried back over to the heavy, iron pot that hung over the fire, stirred it slightly with her spoon and dipped out a little bit. She tasted it tentatively, smacked her lips together and declared it the best stew she'd ever made. This statement was also becoming a regular occurrence, but I smiled at her nonetheless. "Was Eragon there today?" she asked kindly, wiping her hands on a towel that hung on the back of one of the chairs. There was a glint in her eyes that had started appearing as of late whenever we discussed Eragon, but I ignored any underlying meaning she might have been trying to imply.

"Yes, he was," I replied, as though nothing was amiss. "He'd been hunting in the Spine for the past few days, that's why I hadn't seen him until today."

"The Spine?" Her voice had suddenly changed, full of concern. "Isn't that awfully dangerous? He's just a boy of fifteen, I'm surprised Garrow lets him go into the mountains by himself." I made to protest, but my uncle's voice cut me off.

"Eragon has been to the Spine?" he asked, ducking through the narrow doorway with his broad frame.

"Yes," I sighed, exasperated. "He found a strange stone there that looks like it could be worth something. He's gone to Sloan's to trade it for meat." My uncle's face suddenly changed, a shadow coming over it. Aunt Elain looked up at him, her face fraught with worry as well.

"Horst," she said softly, laying a hand on his thick, muscled arm.

"Aye," he replied, understanding her meaning.

"What is it?" I asked heatedly, looking between the two of them.

"Sloan hates the Spine with a passion," Aunt Elain explained slowly as Uncle Horst made his way towards the front door. "If Eragon lets slip where that stone is from, there could be trouble." My uncle was already out the door before she had finished speaking, hurrying across the town's common pasture to the butcher's shop situated directly across from the house. I watched out the window as he disappeared inside the shop.

"I hope everything's all right," I whispered quietly.

"Tabatha, get washed up for dinner," Aunt Elain said distractedly, running between the counter and the pot over the fire. "Your uncle will tell us about it when he returns. I don't want you going over there." My aunt knew me too well. I hurried out the back as Albriech and Baldor pushed past each other into the house, knocking me aside in the process. My cousins were more like my brothers, and equally as vexing.

"Watch it!" I cried, pushing Albriech off of me.

"I heard father's going over to Sloan's to rescue Eragon for you," Baldor crooned mockingly. "We all knew you've been in love with him this whole time."

"I am not in love with Eragon!" I screamed, hands balled into fists at my side. They just laughed and pushed on past me towards the table as I continued to seethe. Aunt Elain smiled at me in that understanding way and then gestured for me to move along. I went out to the back and plunged my arms into the ice cold water in the trough, scrubbing vigorously with the bar of soap that rested on the edge. How could they think that! Eragon was my best friend! I didn't feel anything for him other than friendship. Sometimes those two could be completely ridiculous.

When I went back inside, Uncle Horst was sitting at the head of the table, Albriech and Baldor to his left, and Aunt Elain sitting directly across. "Is he alright?" I asked, sitting across from Albriech. I noticed the two of them smirking but ignored it.

"Your aunt was right," he sighed, shaking his head subtly, "there was trouble, but I took care of it. I paid for Eragon's meat and calmed Sloan down. Eragon will repay me." I sighed in relief that everything had turned out all right, but I couldn't help but think that stone of his was only going to bring Eragon trouble.

 

* * *

 

I snuck out later that night, as I usually did, to meet Brom over at Morn's tavern. Aunt Elain hated the idea that I went there, but she'd come to realize that she could do nothing to stop me. I still didn't like her lectures though, so I continued to sneak away after she'd gone to bed. Brom sat at his usual corner, far back in the corner near the blazing fire. As we got further into autumn, the nights were getting colder and colder. I had wrapped my winter cloak tightly around me outside, but the heat in here was stifling. I threw it down and plopped down in the chair across from Brom. He looked up from his pint and smiled at me.

"Good evening, Tabatha. How have you been? Practicing those moves I taught you?" he said, lifting his pint to his mouth and taking a long drink. I laughed when I saw the foam that had stuck to his moustache and he wiped it away quickly. Brom was like another father to me, and he'd been looking out for me ever since I was a child, teaching me how to read and how to use a sword: much more practical activities than anything my aunt had tried to teach me.

"My aunt caught me practicing once before, Brom. I'm not going to let her do it again. It's hard to find the time to get away from her, but I practice when I can. When are you going to give me a real sword? Instead of that paltry wooden one I've had since I was a child?"

"When you're older," he replied with a wide grin. Every time I asked him that, I got the same answer.

"And when will that be? You've been saying that for years," I complained, picking at a spot on the table that was coming up.

He sighed in mock exasperation. "You'll be ready soon, Tabatha, I promise. Just be patient." I decided to let the subject drop

"Very well," I muttered. Raucous laughter came from the counter where Morn stood behind it, preparing drinks for the soldiers that sat there. I followed Brom's gaze, looking over my shoulder, and found one of the soldiers staring at me over his pint, his icy blue eyes glinting sharply in the firelight.

"I wait in anticipation for the day that these thrice-damned soldiers leave here," Brom growled into his cup, taking another swig of the potent ale. Although I met Brom here almost every night to converse, he never allowed me a pint. _'Too young,'_ he had said.

"Why did they have to come at all?" I asked quietly, returning my gaze to him to escape the piercing gaze of the Imperial soldier.

"They are keeping an eye on things here, making sure the farmers are giving their due to the Empire. Galbatorix is a greedy fool. He takes and kills without thinking," Brom said angrily. "That, and he's looking for something." This last part he said more to himself, but I caught it with my keen sense of hearing. I stared at him hard to see if he'd continue.

"And what's that?" I asked slowly. I searched Brom's face as he hesitated to answer me. He glanced back at the bar to the soldiers. I dared not look for fear that the man's eyes were still upon me. I could feel them there, and my skin began to crawl, as though he was undressing me with his eyes. Brom could sense my discomfort.

"You must be very careful, Tabatha," he whispered. "These soldiers have been secluded from civilization, mainly women, for large amounts of time. They are not afraid to do unspeakable things to women." A pang of fear went through my chest. "You are a very beautiful girl, Tabatha. Do not, under any circumstances, let down your guard. Even if you are with your cousins, or Eragon, they will say and do anything in the name of the king."

"You think that they would do something in public?" I asked nervously, feeling my palms begin to sweat.

"I know they would," he replied darkly. "I've dealt with their type before." I gulped down the lump in my throat. "Do you remember that dagger I gave you for your last birthday?" I nodded slightly. "Keep it on you from now on." I nodded again, not daring to say a word lest I draw any unwanted attention to myself. "Good. Now go home, and be careful." I rose to leave, but then stopped.

"Brom?" I asked hesitantly. He looked up at me, the fire casting shadows on his already lined face. "What is Galbatorix looking for?" I didn't expect an answer, as he'd ignored me the first time, but I had to chance it.

He sighed heavily, a sadness creeping in his dark blue eyes. "I must save that for another time when there aren't so many eager ears around." I nodded in understanding and turned to leave. As I hurried out of the tavern, I saw that same young soldier smirking at me, his hungry eyes following my every movement. I shivered involuntarily and left the tavern as quickly as possible. As I walked back across the village green to my house, I couldn't help but have the unshakeable feeling that I was being watched.


	2. Hidden Truths

                  It was the next night that I quietly stole out of the house to go to Brom's. I'd watched out my bedroom window to see when he left the tavern, and when I was sure no one was watching, I followed after him, gripping the hilt of my dagger tightly. I had to know what he was talking about when he said Galbatorix was looking for something. The thought had been nagging at my mind all day, and I couldn't take it anymore. The legs of my leather breeches swished against my cloak softly as I trotted around the edge of the village green. A group of soldiers was coming out of the tavern, clearly drunk by their boisterous laughter and conversation, and I ducked behind the town healer, Gertrude's, house. My dagger suddenly made me feel very small compared to the longswords of the soldiers. If it came down to it, I would be helpless against them. I could hear the sounds of the soldiers' camp outside of town drifting through the quiet air. Armor clanked, swords came together in a metallic crash, and the horses whinnied back and forth to one another. Finally, I made it to Brom's house and tapped on the door. It didn't seem he was going to open the door, so I slowly lifted the latch and stole inside.

                 "Tabby!" he exclaimed upon seeing me. "What are you doing here?"

                 "I came to finish the conversation we started last night," I said, breathless. His eyes fell, shoulders slumped and he slowly exhaled.

                 "I was wondering when you would come," he muttered quietly to himself.

                 "Please, Brom," I insisted. "The way that you spoke made me think that it somehow involves me. If it does, then I think that I have a right to know what's going on." Brom nodded gravely, avoiding making eye contact.

                 He sighed heavily, inspecting the wooden slats of the floor. The hesitation was clear on his face, and I couldn't think what would be so bad that he couldn't tell me. "I don't know where to begin, Tabatha," he said morosely.

                 "Just start at the beginning," I prompted, excited that I was finally getting somewhere with him. Maybe I'd finally get some answers to my questions.

                 "Very well. Long ago," he began, his voice quiet and serious, "Alagaesia knew times of peace. That peace was kept by the Dragon Riders of old. The age of the Riders was a splendid one indeed, until a young Rider named Galbatorix changed all that. His dragon died and he demanded another egg, but was denied. Outraged, he stole another Rider's dragon, killing his fellow Rider in the process and forcing the dragon to bond to him. Galbatorix and his band of followers, the Forsworn, cut down and killed every last Rider there was, the Red Rider Morzan being the very worst of them. Eventually, they turned on each other in their desire for power, until only the king remained. He had decimated the rest of the dragons, but three eggs still remained, all of which reside in his possession now... until a little while ago. One of the eggs was stolen by the Varden, the resistance that secretly plots against the Empire, and Galbatorix has been trying for years to get it back. The soldiers are not only here to check on the farmers, Tabby, they are searching for the stolen egg."

                  I had heard the stories of the Riders before, from Brom himself, but I had no idea that there were three eggs still left in existence. "But why would they think that the egg is here?"

                 "Soldiers have been dispatched to every corner of Alagaesia to find the egg," he said. "It could be anywhere: The Hadarac Desert, Du Weldenvarden, the Beor Mountains, even The Spine." Suddenly, something flashed in my mind and I had to keep from gasping aloud: the brilliant blue stone that Eragon found in the mountains. That was it. Eragon has the egg! But does he know?

                 "What does all of this have to do with me?" I asked, trying to conceal the knowledge I now had. "There's something you're not telling me, Brom." He sighed heavily again.

                 "Tabatha," he continued hesitantly, "there's something you must know, about your mother. You-" Brom was suddenly cut off by a pounding at the door.

                 "Open up, old man!" a soldier yelled. Brom snapped his head toward me, his eyes full of worry. He quickly jumped up and pulled me over to the fireplace. Moving a rug aside on the floor, he revealed a secret door. As he opened it, another frenzy of beating came at the door. "Open up, I say!"

                 "You must hide here. Keep quiet," he whispered hurriedly, pushing me down into the dark hole. I wanted to ask him why I must hide, but he'd already shut the secret door and replaced the rug. The little hole was full of ancient scrolls and books that I'd never seen before, and no matter how much I would like to study them, I paid them no mind at the moment. I could barely see up through the wooden slats of the floor, but it was enough. Brom had opened up the door and was talking with a soldier. He wore the emblem of a company commander on his right shoulder. There were two other men standing behind him and I recognized the soldier that had been staring at me last night in the tavern. "How can I help you, Commander?" Brom asked in a none-too-friendly tone.

                 "I'd just like to ask you a few questions," the commander replied icily.

                 "Ask away then." Brom's tone implied that neither the questions nor the presence of himself or his men were welcome here.

                 "These two men came to me and claimed that they saw you at the tavern last night with a girl who looked about fifteen or sixteen. About yea high." He motioned a height about to his shoulder. "Long, dark brown hair and violet eyes. She matches a description of a suspect of illicit crimes and is wanted by the crown." They were talking about _me_ , but what had I done? "Do you recognize the description? Or recall the girl?" Brom nodded slowly.

                 "Aye, you must mean Irina," he replied nonchalantly. He seemed to be unaffected, and I had to credit him his ability to lie under pressure. "What is it she's done now?"

                 "That information is classified at present," the commander growled in a low voice, obviously irked by Brom's blatant disregard for his rank or position. "Where might I find this Irina?" Brom rubbed his scruffy chin as if he was deep in thought.

                 "Well, if she's not down at the tavern getting drunk off her ass again, then she'd be at home. She's a bit of a wild one, if you get my meaning." Brom chuckled lightly and nudged the commander with his elbow. For a moment, I thought I saw him wink as well. The faces of the two young men behind the commander lit up as they must have been thinking of me as a "wild one", as Brom so delicately put it.

                 "We've already checked the tavern, and she isn't there. Where does she live?" I could tell the commander was growing tiresome of this little visit, as much as I was about hiding in this cramped hole in the ground.

                 "Well, her home is about two miles up the road out into the valley. It's a little house with a blue roof, and a red barn, you can't miss it." The commander thanked him for his cooperation and they left. Once they were gone, I heaved a sigh of relief. Brom quickly opened up the secret door and pulled me out of the hole.

                 "Brom? What's going on? Why are they looking for me?" I asked, on the verge of hysteria.

                 "I'm truly sorry, Tabatha, but I haven't got the time to explain it now. I'm afraid you'll have to wait for another time for that explanation I owe you." He grabbed me by the shoulders, squeezing tightly. "Do you know the back way to Garrow's farm?" I nodded quickly. "Good. Get there as fast as you can, and try not to be seen. Tell Garrow about the soldiers. He will understand."

                  Brom led me out the back door, checking each way to make sure the coast was clear and then jogging over to the small paddock that lay a few yards away. His big chestnut horse stood eerily still, alerted to our presence. The old man helped me up into the saddle and he patted me reassuringly on the leg. "Be careful," he said, giving me a short nod.

                   I looked down at him, wanting to say more and wishing we had more time. "I will." I kicked the horse, spurring it forward and racing off into the night. My head was spinning with questions that I wanted answers to. But the truths would have to wait for now.

 

* * *

 

                    As I rode on through the darkness of the trees, their spindly branches whipping at my face and scraping my skin, my head was filled with thoughts of Eragon and the dragon egg. There was no way he could know that it was a dragon egg, and I was just glad that he hadn't given it over to Sloan. That egg was worth far more than a few pounds of meat. But what would happen when the soldiers found out he had it? And, even worse, what would happen if Sloan accidentally let it slip what Eragon had brought into his shop? I had a feeling that I wouldn't be the only one hiding from the soldiers soon.

                    The night air was cold, and I was glad I had thrown my cloak over my tunic and breeches. If I was going to be at Garrow's for a while, I would need it. But what about my other things? I'd have to have Eragon or his cousin Roran go into town to get them for me. I didn't know why I had to hide, but Brom had made it clear that I didn't really have a choice. The soldiers were searching for me; I'd witnessed it with my own eyes. But what on earth had I done that Galbatorix—the king himself!—would put a warrant out for my arrest? I'd never had any interactions with the Empire until now. I couldn't imagine that just getting noticed by one of the Imperial soldiers—a lowly footsoldier, at that—would constitute this much uproar.

                    The moon shone brightly down on the deer path that twisted and wound through the forest. Eragon and I had used to come here as children, pretending to be the Dragon Riders we'd heard of in Brom's stories. One time, he'd tried to tell me that I needed to be the princess locked in the tower that was guarded by an evil dragon and Rider, since I was the girl. Naturally, I didn't take too kindly to that, and decided to beat him over the head with the stick I'd been using as a sword. Aunt Elain had been terribly mad when she found out I'd broken his nose, but Uncle Horst thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

                    "The girl's been raised with two boys, Elain!" he'd boomed, laughing heartily. "Let her play a little rough." Aunt Elain had frowned at that, but she'd never said another word about my tomboyish tendencies. That all seemed so long ago, and now my life had taken a dramatic turn. I was being hunted by the Empire; those innocent days were lost for good.


	3. In Hiding

                  It was pitch black by the time I reached the door to the farmhouse. Clouds had rolled in and covered the moon in a dark haze. It was frigidly cold, and I was glad I had my cloak, although the cold was beginning to seep through the heavy material. Frantically, I pounded on the door of the little house, and I heard movement on the other side.

                 "Who's there?" I heard a gruff voice call.

                 "It's Tabatha! Please! Open up!" I screamed. Suddenly, the door flew open and I saw Roran's large frame blocking the door.

                 "Tabby!" he cried in surprise, wrapping a thickly-muscled arm around my shoulder and ushering me in the warm house. "What are you doing here?" Eragon and Garrow ran into the front room just as Roran asked me the question.

                 "Tabatha!" Eragon exclaimed, trotting to join us by the door.

                 "Make some room," Garrow said, pushing past Eragon and Roran to lead me over to the warmth of the fire. He sat me down in a little chair by the blazing flames, and I thanked the gods above and below for the warmth that was now seeping into my bones. "Tabatha," Garrow began slowly once he was certain I was recovered from the cold, "what's the matter? Why are you here in the middle of the night?" I slowly exhaled and looked between the three of them. The expression on my face must have let them know that something was very wrong.

                 "Brom sent me," I said quickly. "We must speak Garrow... alone." He nodded and looked at the boys.

                 "Off to bed with you. We've got a long day tomorrow," Garrow said to them. Roran nodded and gave me one last squeeze around the shoulders. He was like my older brother and, if it came down to it, I'd take him over Albriech and Baldor any day. Eragon looked downcast and only stared at me before he finally left. "Come," Garrow continued quietly once they were gone, motioning for me to join him by the fire. "Now tell me, why did Brom send you here?" I sighed heavily.

                 "I was at his house and we were talking about the soldiers," I began slowly, leaving out the part about the talk of dragons and their Riders. "And then a group of them came. I hid under the floor while they spoke with Brom. The soldiers were looking for... me." Garrow's eyes widened slightly. "When they were gone, Brom told me to come here to hide and tell you about the soldiers. He said you'd understand."

                  He nodded solemnly and looked away into the fire, seeming to contemplate something for a moment."So it has begun," he whispered. His voice was so low that I could barely hear him.

                 "What's begun?" I asked anxiously. Did Garrow know what it was that Brom had been trying to tell me before the soldiers came?

                 "Unfortunately," Garrow sighed, "it is not my place to tell you that. It is between you and Brom." I groaned slightly to myself. Why will no one give me any answers! Garrow must have sensed my anger for he placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "I'm truly sorry, Tabatha, but you must know something. This involves you more than you think, and you must be extremely careful. Do you understand?" I nodded yes, but that was a lie. I had no idea what anyone was talking about! "You may stay as long as you wish, but I must insist that you do not leave while the soldiers are still here, for your own safety."

                 "Of course," I replied quietly. The old man gave me a kind smile.

                 "Good. Now, I'm sorry to say that there's not much room here. But I believe Eragon has another mattress in his room, if you'd like to bring it out by the fire. I daresay you'll be warmer out here," he laughed.

                 "Thank you for your kindness, Garrow. I shall not forget it," I said as I stood from the chair. "Now, where might I find the materials needed for breakfast?"

                 "Well! I'm glad to see you'll be making yourself at home." He showed me to their small kitchen. "The chicken coop is out back, and you should find some fresh eggs in there. And thank you."

                 "I wouldn't dream of not repaying you for your kindness," I replied. Garrow smiled and laughed to himself.

                 "You remind me so much of my Marian," he mused quietly, staring off into space slightly, his mind elsewhere.

                 "Thank you again," I said. I left him reminiscing by the fire and headed towards Eragon's room. I opened the door and saw him sitting on his straw mattress, the room barely illuminated by the sliver of moonlight that was peeking through the clouds. His face looked so sad, but I couldn't think why. "Eragon?" I called softly. "Are you alright?" He looked up at me slowly and nodded his head slightly.

                  "I'm fine," he mumbled. "What about you? What happened?"

                  "The soldiers came looking for me, so Brom sent me here to hide," I said, coming to sit beside him on the low bed. The frame groaned slightly in protest as I lowered myself onto the mattress, unaccustomed to the extra weight.

                  "Why are they looking for you?" he asked in concern.

                  "I wish I knew. No one seems fit to give me any answers. From what I heard though, Galbatorix has put a bounty on my head. He's sent soldiers to every corner of Alagaesia to find me." I wasn't entirely sure if I should be sharing this information, but Eragon was my best friend, and I knew that I could trust him with anything. Eragon remained silent for a while, his eyes wide.

                  "What in the world did you do, Tabby?" he finally uttered, though he was laughing. "Did you steal Galbatorix's crown off of his head from the throne room itself?" I had to laugh aloud at that and punch him on the arm.

                  "Come now, Eragon, you know me better than that," I replied, mock indignation in my voice. "You should know me well enough to know that I stole his dragon, rode it all the way here from Uru'baen and hid him in the Spine." He laughed again, but something was different about it this time. "What's wrong?" I probed, poking him slightly as he looked away from me.

                  "Nothing," he replied softly. I could tell he was lying. My ability to see through peoples' lies was one of my talents. I only laughed a little at his vain attempt to mislead me. I would have thought that after all this time he would know that there was no way anyone could lie to me.

                  "You're lying," I simply said. "You were always a bad liar." That much was true. "What's bothering you?" I suddenly jumped as I heard something rustling around in the corner. "What was that?" I breathed quietly. Eragon looked even more nervous than before.

                  "Oh, it's n-nothing." He was stuttering... Eragon never stutters. "Probably just r-rats." I stood up to go investigate.

                  "You're lying again, Eragon," I said, stooping lower to the ground. Suddenly, I felt Eragon pull me by the waist and we toppled to the floor. He was on top of me, pinning me to the ground.

                  "I said it was nothing!" His voice wasn't angry. It was more pleading than anything else.

                  "And I said that you're lying to me." Now _I_ was angry. "What is it?" The noises were coming closer. Then, I saw a flash of blue come between my face and Eragon's. I screamed and struggled to get away, but Eragon had me secured to the ground. He placed a hand over my mouth to keep me from crying out again.

                  "Shh! Tabby, please, keep quiet," he pleaded in a hushed whisper. I tried to speak, but his hand muffled my words. "What?" he asked, removing his hand from my mouth.

                  "What was that?" I whispered angrily. He shifted his eyes nervously, and then he suddenly realized the position we were in, his dark eyes going wide and his face turning scarlet in embarrassment. His legs were straddled over my hips and he had my wrists pinned above my head. Even though I'd broken his nose when we were children, he'd grown stronger than me by far from working on the farm his whole life. His ears began to turn red at their edges as he scrambled to get off me.

                  "Sorry," he mumbled. I pulled myself up off the floor and told him it was alright. I looked back at the sapphire creature and realization suddenly dawned on me.

                  "It's a dragon, isn't it?" I breathed quietly. The little dragon tilted its' head at me curiously. It inched towards me slowly, nostrils flaring as it sniffed the air and tiny talons clicking softly against the wood floor.

                  "How did you know?" he asked in surprise.

                  "Brom told me about a dragon egg that had been stolen from the king. After that, I just put two and two together."

                  "I'm afraid," he said abruptly. "If the soldiers found it, they would kill it. I don't know what to do." I went over to him slowly and grabbed his hands.

                  "Do you know what this means, Eragon?" I said, moving some of his dark hair out of his face and gently stroking his cheek. "You are a Dragon Rider, like the stories Brom used to tell us. This is for real. You're a keeper of the peace, and now….you will be expected to be a warrior. But _you_ have to decide what for. You've been chosen for an immense responsibility, and you've been placed, very suddenly, into a position of great power… and danger. You can't afford to be afraid anymore." He stared at me for a long moment before sighing heavily and looking down at the little blue dragon. It was rubbing up against his leg, the way that a cat would, and it hummed softly, a pleasant sound that emanated from its chest.

                  "I know," he replied somberly, leaning down to rub the dragon at the back of its' head. "I realize the great task that lies before me."

                  "No," I cut in abruptly, "you don't. There are so many things about to come your way, Eragon. Things that you can't even possibly begin to imagine. And I'm sure I can't even imagine them myself. This is only the beginning." His eyes fell and his shoulders hunched forward slightly, and I could tell that he heard the truth of my words.

                  "Will you help me?" he finally continued, looking up at me with his dark eyes, the little blue dragons' scales reflecting in their depths. "Will you go on this journey with me?"

                  "Yes," I whispered, smiling slightly, "I will." He grinned back at me as the little creature crawled up into his lap and curled into a ball, wrapping its' tail all the way around itself. I sat down across from Eragon and just stared at the pair of them for a while.

                   We'd been hearing stories of the mighty Dragon Riders since we were children, and I never imagined I'd see one in my lifetime, let alone that it would be Eragon! The dragon was truly a magnificent sight to behold, even in its' tiny state. I knew that it would get much bigger, but I couldn't even begin to imagine how terrifying that would be. Slowly, I reached out a hand and stroked along its' shimmering blue scales, feeling their smoothness at my fingertips. The dragon twitched slightly at my intrusion, but I just couldn't help myself, and I began to laugh quietly.

                  "This is incredible," I whispered, looking up at Eragon. He was still grinning wildly, just like an idiot. But he was my idiot.

                  "Yes, it certainly is. I still can't even believe it's happening," he mused quietly, staring down at the creature in his lap lovingly. "Who would have thought a hunting trip into the Spine would change my life so completely?" I just shook my head and laughed again, sweeping a bit of dark hair out of my eyes.

                  "You know," I continued, "we're going to have to figure out where to hide it. Once she starts eating and growing, she's going to get a _lot_ bigger. What are we going to do then?"

                  "There's plenty of woods around here." He shrugged nonchalantly, as though finding the perfect hiding place for his dragon was a daily occurrence. "We'll figure something out."

                  "I hope you're right," I replied skeptically. I bid him goodnight soon after that and took his extra straw mattress, dragging it out to set up in front of the fire. As I lay down, reveling in the heat given off by the flames, I fell asleep to dreams of dragons soaring through the air, Riders sitting proudly upon their backs. What I wouldn't give to become one myself.


	4. And Time Drags On

It had been a month—a very long and cold month at that—since the soldiers had come, and I was still stuck out here at Garrow's farm. Winter was well underway by now, and thick blankets of snow covered all of Palancar Valley and the Spine. Eragon's dragon had grown immensely in the short time span; its head now reached to his upper arm and almost to the top of my shoulder. Its' rapid growth rate was sometimes a little frightening, but it was generally a sweet creature, except when it was hunting. One time, I saw it swallow a hare in one bite. I was just thankful it hadn't tried to eat _me_ yet.

I had agreed to help Eragon raise the dragon, and while he was doing his chores I would go and stay with it at its hiding spot near the rowan tree. It was freezing cold as we sat in the snow one day. The little blue dragon was sitting on Eragon's shoulder, seeming to be weighting him down with its size, taking in its surroundings.

"I need to find out more about dragons, Tabby. I don't know enough and I'm concerned that it doesn't breathe fire yet," he said, petting the dragon's tail. "I want to give it a suitable name as well."

"And where will you go to find out such things?" I asked plainly, laughing a bit.

"To Brom's," he retorted with a bit of a curl to his lip. "When we went to town last when the traders came, Brom told the story of the Riders' beginnings and how Galbatorix rose to power. I figured he must know something about them. And who knows? Perhaps I might pick up some good names in the process." My heart fell a bit at the mention of the traders' fair, and I regretted that I hadn't been able to go. Their coming was always my favorite part of winter.

"While you're in town, please go to my aunt and uncle's again and let them know that I'm doing well," I said sadly. They had searched for me for the first few days, but Roran had gone to them secretly to let them know I was at Garrow's farm. They didn't understand why, nor did I expect them to, but they'd agreed to keep it silent. The soldiers had been conducting raids on farms all throughout the valley, but somehow had overlooked Garrow's farm. It could have just been the fact that it was the furthest one out of town, and completely isolated from anything else, but I liked to think that the spirits of my parents were watching over and keeping me safe.

"I will," he said. I thanked him silently with my eyes as he rose to leave. "I'll be back later, Tabby. Make sure it doesn't wander off too far."

"Do you think it's a boy or a girl?" I mused to myself, staring blankly at the greying sky. Fat, soft flakes of snow were falling slowly, settling on the already snow-covered ground with soft _thuds_.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully Brom will be able to tell me something." He turned to the dragon. I didn't believe him when he'd first told me that there was some kind of mental contact between the two of them, but then I realized that dragons are magical beasts and anything can happen when they're around.

As Eragon began to walk away, he stopped suddenly and slowly turned back to the two of us. "What's wrong?" I asked him.

"It just spoke to me," he said softly. I could feel my eyes grow wide. "It just said my name." I watched him for a moment as he stood in the snow in shock. He seemed to be contemplating something, but he never said what.

"Go on, Eragon. We'll still be here when you get back," I laughed. The sooner he left and returned the better. He turned away again, looking somewhat dejected, and slowly disappeared beyond the white horizon. The dragon gave out a low rumble as he went out of sight, and then turned to me, its sapphire eyes full of sadness and longing. Its blue scales shimmered in the white light of the snow as it shook flakes of cold snow off its back. I patted it on the head lovingly, rubbing behind where I thought its ears to be. "Don't worry," I said aloud, "he'll be back soon." The dragon slowly sank its shoulders and curled into a ball in the snow, looking mournfully towards the horizon.

 

* * *

 

It was two hours later and almost dark when Eragon finally returned. He came running out to the hiding spot, his face alight with excitement.

"What happened?" I asked, smiling at his apparent joy.

"It was amazing! Brom knew so much about dragons. Much more than I even thought possible. Apparently, the dragons don't start breathing fire until they're about six months old, so I'm not too worried about that for now. But then he said that Riders can't hear their dragons' thoughts, which I know isn't true since I did just before I left here," he replied hastily, not even taking a breath.

"Eragon! Breathe between sentences! I know you're excited, but you're going to start turning blue in the face," I exclaimed, holding up my hands to signal him to stop. He took in a large breath and then let it out with a great roar of laughter.

"I'm sorry," he replied innocently. "He knew everything I wanted to know, and more. I'm just excited, is all."

"Did you find a name?" I asked, leaning my head back against the rowan tree while the dragon jumped around his feet in excitement, tail waving excitedly.

"Brom told me a few," he said, glancing down at the little blue dragon dancing about his feet. He bent down and sat in the snow cross-legged, looking fixedly into its sapphire blue eyes. "Let me ask it what it thinks." I settled in for his discussion with the dragon, watching with interest. "What do you think of Vanilor, or his successor, Eridor? Both were great dragons." He paused for a moment and then looked a bit flustered. "That's my name. You can't have it." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if you don't like those, there are others." Eragon continued through a long list of names, most of them foreign sounding and strange to my ears. "There was Ingothold, he slew the..." He suddenly stopped and beat his hand against his forehead.

"What's the matter?" I asked in concern.

"That's why it refused all those names!" he exclaimed. "I've only been listing male ones. It's a girl!" I smiled happily.

"Ha! I knew it!" I cried ecstatically. The dragon snorted and I could almost swear there was a look of satisfaction on her face.

"Hmm," he said quietly. "I like Miramel, but that doesn't fit. She was a brown dragon. Hmm...are you...Saphira?" Eragon smiled and I thought that she must have said yes. She flapped her tiny wings and pawed at the ground.

"I like it," I whispered, smiling contentedly. "It is a powerful name, but still feminine. And it matches her well... Saphira." Saphira looked at me with her large, blue eyes and it almost looked like she was smiling.

We talked for a while longer as we walked back to the farmhouse, but I could tell his mind was wandering throughout the entire conversation. I was continually having to repeat myself. "Eragon? Is something wrong?" I finally asked. He heaved a sigh and looked down at the snow-laden ground.

"Roran is leaving for Therinsford in two weeks' time to become a miller," he said quietly. My head shot up in surprise.

"What!" I exclaimed. "Why didn't anyone tell me before?" He hung his head low.

"We didn't want you to worry, Tabatha. We know how you are," he mumbled, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his breeches to escape from the growing cold. I had things I wanted to say, but I held my tongue until Roran was present. I stomped towards the house, fire blazing in my eyes and Eragon following quickly behind.

"Tabatha!" he called. "Wait! Just wait!" I ignored his pleas as I burst through the door, letting in a cold draft of the night air in with me, my boots making loud _thumps_ against the hard, pine floor as I searched for Roran. I finally found him in the kitchen with Garrow. For a moment, I just stood there in the doorway with my hands on my hips as Roran and Garrow stared at me in bewilderment. Eragon came up behind me, out of breath, and Roran shifted his gaze to his cousin.

"I'm guessing that you told her?" he asked tentatively. I could see Eragon scratching at his head out of the corner of my eye.

"Yeah," he mumbled.

"I'm guessing she didn't take it too well?" He glanced over at me, amusement playing upon his handsome face.

"You can say that again..." Eragon mumbled. Roran sighed and looked at Garrow who held a look of utter befuddlement about the whole situation.

"Someone mind telling me what's going on?" he said in a perplexed voice.

"Come on, let's get dinner on the table and I'll explain everything," Roran said, setting dishes on the rough-hewn table. I went over and helped place the meager meal of bread, a scarce amount of meat, and a few flimsy-looking vegetables. We each took our helping and then I began to eat, settling in, along with Garrow, to hear Roran's explanation.

He spoke of a miller named Dempton he'd met at Uncle Horst's forge earlier that day. Dempton was ordering some sockets to be made for his mill and he and Roran struck up a conversation while Uncle Horst was fixing a broken chisel. Dempton had offered Roran a job at his mill in Therinsford, the next town over from Carvahall, and he'd decided to take it.

Roran looked over at his father expectantly, waiting for any kind of reaction. "Well," Garrow finally said, sighing heavily, "when do you leave?" A look of shock spread across both Eragon and Roran's faces.

"What?" Roran asked incredulously.

"I've been hoping to expand this family for quite some time," he said, his gaze full of understanding. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he looked between Eragon and me, and I saw Eragon beginning to blush. What in the world did that mean? "And now's as good a time as ever. Katrina is a very lucky girl." Roran's face lit up with happiness.

"Thank you, Father!" he cried in joy. I looked on in silence as Roran talked of all the things he planned to do with the money he would make. In two weeks' time, we would never sit like this at the table again. I couldn't help but feel that my big brother was being torn away from me. But I understood why he needed to go. He'd talked of marrying Katrina, the butcher's daughter, for quite some time now, and he'd need a job to be able to care for her and provide a life for both of them. I couldn't help but be a little jealous, though. Even though my entire life had been uprooted, I was finally starting to feel as though things were settling into a routine, and I liked that. Now everything was changing again, and even though I knew it was for the better, I couldn't help but feel disheartened. But Roran's face was alight with joy, and I was happy for him.

 

* * *

 

When Roran finally departed two weeks later, time seemed to slow down to a creeping rate. Eragon and Saphira talked amongst themselves most of the time, and Garrow could never tell me anything that I wanted to hear. Saphira continued to grow in size, and soon she was flying high into the air, disappearing into the winter clouds. Eragon waited impatiently for the day that she would finally be big enough for him to ride on her back, and he talked nonstop about all of the things Brom had shared with him about the Riders. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy, and long for the talks that I used to have with Brom.

While I was stuck here, Eragon and I sparred with wooden sticks whenever we could. He wasn't very good, but I was teaching him all that I had learned from Brom. One day, as our wooden tree branches crashed against one another, Eragon tried to slash at my waist, but I cut his stick away and swiped his leg, leaving a nasty scratch on his arm.

"Ouch!" he cried, dropping his stick and clutching his arm. "Tabatha!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to Eragon," I said, feeling sorry but laughing at the same time. He really was hopeless.

"I never knew you were so good at swordplay. If I had, I wouldn't have agreed to spar with you," he complained, rubbing away the blood that was trickling down his arm out of the scratch.

"Brom has been teaching me for years now," I explained, coming over to inspect his wound. It was a surface wound, at the most, and I couldn't see what he was complaining about. "It's just a scratch, Eragon. You'll be fine."

He scowled at me slightly and then rolled his shoulders in defiance. "Doesn't mean it didn't hurt," he pouted, picking up his stick out of the snow. "Why has Brom been teaching you swordplay? What use is it to a _girl_?" The way he said the word 'girl' made me bristle and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I could feel my blood boiling and my anger coming to the surface. I had a temper, I knew, but sometimes I had a hard time controlling it.

"What does it matter that I'm a _girl_?" I sneered, hands placed firmly on my hips. "I have every right to learn to defend myself as much as you do. What difference does my sex make? Hmm?" I knocked him over the head with my stick, drawing a cry of protest out of him. "Would you rather I stay home and cook and clean all day? As a good woman should! Well that's not me, Eragon! And if you think it is, then I certainly have nothing more to say to you!" Flinging my stick into the snow, I whipped my cloak around, knocking him aside, and stormed back to the house. I felt as though steam was coming out of my ears and my eyes were on fire. What right did he think he had to say such things to me! Eragon and I had been friends all our lives, but he could be such a dolt sometimes. Oh, how I wish that the soldiers would leave so things could go back to normal!


	5. Fate's Cruel Hand

It was the morning of Roran's departure, and I wished more than anything that I could go into Carvahall with he and Eragon to say my goodbyes, but it was still too dangerous for me to be seen by the soldiers. One night, after Eragon had come home from working in my uncle's forge to repay his debt, he'd told me that the soldiers had blocked off nearly every exit and entrance into town, even some of the deer paths that wound through the woods, and they stopped every passerby. They'd even gone so far as to offer a huge reward for my capture. They made me sound like an outlaw on the run! I didn't even know what I'd done! But since they were using the false name Brom had provided, no one really knew who I was, except for those that Brom had let in on the secret, like my aunt and uncle and Morn the tavern keeper. I was just thankful that I lived in such a tightknit community, where we all looked out for one another against a common enemy.

I gave Roran one last hug and told him I would miss him greatly before he and Eragon headed towards town. Garrow and I stood on the front porch together, waving goodbye and calling out blessings of good luck and fortune. When they finally crept out of sight I headed towards the barn with Garrow. He grabbed a bucket that was full of grooming tools for the horses and we got to work. He took Brugh and I grabbed a brush and started stroking Birka's shiny coat. She whinnied quietly in delight and I patted her strong neck. She really was a beautiful creature, though not half so beautiful as Saphira.

"I would like to thank you, Tabatha," Garrow began quietly, interrupting my quiet thoughts, "for all of the help you've given me. It really has made a tremendous amount of difference having an extra set of hands around the house." I smiled lightly.

"I do what I can," I said. It had become painfully apparent that the soldiers weren't planning on leaving any time soon-not without me, at least-so I was anticipating staying here for a lot longer than I'd originally thought, and I was happy to give Garrow whatever help that I could. He'd been so kind to me, when he didn't have to.

"It's nice to have a woman's touch back in the home," he continued sadly, and I knew that he was remembering his late wife, Marian. I hadn't really known her-she'd died when Eragon and I were young-but I knew from stories about her that she had been kind, and she was lovely, and always willing to help someone in need. And she'd loved Garrow and Roran, and Eragon too, immensely. She'd been like a mother to Eragon after his own had died giving birth to him. "And I'm sure that the boys enjoy the change in cooking. Not so many things burnt anymore." He chuckled a bit but there was still sadness in his eyes. "I think Eragon likes having you around all the time as well," he added quietly. I paused to try and pick out what he meant by that.

"What do you mean?" I finally asked, and Garrow began to laugh to himself.

"I should think it would be quite obvious," he chortled, "especially to you, Tabatha, who notices so much that others do not."

"I'm afraid it is not so this time," I replied, absolutely puzzled.

"Well," Garrow began slowly, "I'm afraid that Eragon is very much in love with you, Tabby."

My eyes grew wide and I spluttered for a moment while I searched for the words to say. "W-what? Th-that can't b-be," I stammered. Garrow only laughed at me again.

"You are both very young," he said in a fatherly sort of voice, "but your times will come. Fate may not have it in her mind to put you two together, but I fear that will not stop Eragon. When the time is right, you will both find that person you are supposed to be with. But I must say, you do fit well together. He tempers you, and you push him outside of his comfort zone. It is a fine match." I stared down at the ground and continued to brush Birka absentmindedly.

"I don't think I'm ready for that yet," I whispered quietly. "I'm not ready to marry anyone, let alone Eragon. He... he's my friend. I don't..."

"It's all right, Tabatha," Garrow said reassuringly. "You are not but fifteen, there's still time to think about it. But will you think about it? I worry for Eragon, and I think you would be good for him. Perhaps if he was more...tempted to stay at home, he wouldn't be running off so much and getting into so much trouble." I thought about that for a moment, but quickly shook the thoughts out of my head. How could Garrow think such a thing? Eragon was my best friend, but everyone always seemed to think we were together. What on earth brought that about? It was certainly starting to grow tiresome, I'll say that much.

"I..." I searched for the words for a moment, chewing on the inside of my cheek. The old man's face was lit up with hope and I hated to be the one to disappoint him. "I will think about it, Garrow. But I make no promises."

"Of course not!" he replied, his face still alight with happiness. "And I don't want you to think that I'm pressuring you, Tabatha. I am simply stating a fact that was obviously unbeknownst to you before, and making a friendly suggestion." I looked over at him and gave a hesitant smile, trying to give him some kind of reassurance that I didn't feel.

"Would you tell me about Eragon's mother?" I asked, trying to shift the subject off of myself and going back to brushing. "What was she like?"

"Selena…" Garrow whispered quietly, staring blankly at the ground. He suddenly snapped back to reality and looked over at me. "My sister was… well, she was very beautiful, that much anyone could see. But she had a wild spirit about her; untamable like the mountains that surround this farm. I always thought that she was better suited to life in the city than here, in the country. She was always running off into the Spine to go on adventures, much like Eragon does now. Our mother and father were always so worried about her. It was a tragedy, what happened. She should not have been stolen from us so young."

I took a deep breath and glanced furtively over at Garrow to gauge the likelihood that he would answer my next question. No matter, I had to chance it. "And what of Eragon's father? Did you know him?" I probed, watching his face carefully. Garrow's back straightened and his eyes grew cold and hard as stone.

"A vile man," he spat. I'd never heard him speak in such a way before about anybody. "He filled my sister's head with fanciful ideas, and then stole her away from us. They… they ran off together. It wasn't until Brom showed up here with Eragon in his arms that we even knew she'd been pregnant, or that she had… died." He fell silent, and I knew there was nothing more he would say on the subject. What kind of a man could have prompted Garrow, the kindest and most gentle-natured man I'd ever met, to speak so ill of him? If he truly was that bad, I was just glad Eragon had clearly taken after his mother.

"I think I'll go for a walk," I said, dropping the brush on the ground and hurrying out of the warm barn without another word. As I left the barn I saw Eragon running down the road towards me. Suddenly, I felt the need to be as far away from him as possible. I waited for him to stop but he just kept on going. "Where are you going?" I called to him as he ran past.

"I'll be right back!" he returned over his shoulder. I didn't want to run into him on my walk, so I shuffled back into the house, my mind wrapped up in my own thoughts.

 

* * *

 

It was past midnight and Eragon was still not back yet. I was worried sick and Garrow was on the verge of hysteria. He and I sat by the fire in complete silence, watching the minutes creep by slowly. After another half an hour I decided that I was going out to look for him.

"What are you doing, Tabatha?" Garrow asked in concern as I got up to leave.

"I'm going to find him," I stated plainly.

"But-" I cut him off before he could continue.

"I have to find him, Garrow," I said, my voice pleading and fraught with worry. "He could be wounded and unable to make it back to the house. If I don't go after him, he could die out there tonight." That silenced him quickly, but his brow was still furrowed. Finally, he nodded his consent and I grabbed my winter cloak, slung Eragon's bow and quiver over my shoulder, and stuffed my dagger down into my bootleg.

"Be careful!" Garrow called as I shut the door firmly behind me. Bracing myself against the shocking cold, I grabbed the lantern that hung by the front door and bounded out into the frigid, dark night. It was pitch black, and I suddenly felt a jolt of fear run through my bones. I was slowly starting to regret this. After a few moments of deep breathing, I trudged on through the snow as it began to pile up on the ground and headed for the rowan tree. When I got there, I noticed tracks in the snow in the clearing beyond the tree and snow that seemed to have been beaten down by large gusts of wind. Eragon and Saphira must have flown off somewhere, as she was now large enough to carry him, if only for a short distance. The only place I could think they would have gone was... the Spine.

I looked at the densely wooded forest and the dark shapes of the mountain range that lay before me. I had heard unspeakable horrors about the Spine, but none of that seemed to matter when Eragon's life could be in danger. Swallowing the hard lump in my throat, I strode forward into the dark forest and the terrors that lay beyond, waiting for me in the night.

 

* * *

 

Eragon's POV

I awoke to see a blue slate above my head. It took me a long minute to remember where I was and what had happened yesterday. The throbbing pain in my legs served as a stark reminder. When I'd told Saphira of the strangers in Carvahall, she'd gone absolutely frantic and had flown me deep into the Spine. Her scales had torn away all the skin from my legs, and the pain was almost unbearable.

"Hey!" I yelled, pounding her belly. "Wake up!" Saphira growled in a low voice and slowly turned over, lifting her wing away. I was nearly blinded by the sun glinting off the snow that lay all around us, and my teeth chattered from the cold. As I moved my legs to try and stand, I could feel the scabs from my wounds cracking away, and I could hardly stand the pain. Slowly, and with a mighty grunt, I lifted myself up off the cold, hard ground, struggling to stand. I used Saphira as support, and as I looked around the clearing where she'd brought me, I suddenly realized where we were: it was the clearing where I'd found Saphira's egg. I wonder what brought her to this place. Perhaps a distant memory?

_'You have to take me back,'_ I told Saphira. She only ignored me. _'I must go back to warn Garrow and Tabatha.'_

_'It isn't safe, little one. The hooded strangers you spoke of...'_ she growled, baring her wickedly sharp fangs.

_'I don't care!'_ I snapped _. 'If they know where I live, they are going to go the farm and Garrow and Tabatha are in danger. I can't let anything happen to them!'_

_'But-'_

_'No!'_ I cut her off angrily. _'You have to take me back, right now!'_ She growled again, and after a bit more deliberation and debate, she finally conceded to take me back. I took off my shirt, shivering from the sudden shock of cold, and ripped it into smaller pieces, stuffing them into the inside thigh of my pants. Reluctant to cause myself pain, but knowing it was necessary, I climbed onto Saphira's back, excruciating pain rippling throughout my legs. I endure it though as Saphira vaulted into the air, pushing off the ground with her powerful back legs and leaving deep gashes in the snow with her talons.

She forced her massive wings up and down, separating us from the ground below, though I could tell she was struggling. Finally, we were going, but the trees below us seemed to be moving so slowly. _'Saphira, you must hurry. We don't have much time!'_ I cried.

_'I am trying, little one,'_ she replied, her voice strained _. 'But I am not strong enough yet. I cannot last much longer.'_

_'Please!'_ She angled her wings downward to gain speed, flying dangerously close to the trees. We reached the farm in half the time it had taken us to get to the clearing. As we flew over the farm, my heart lurched into my throat when I realized it was aflame. The barn was completely destroyed, seemingly blown apart in an explosion. Saphira landed heavily in the snow, stumbling a bit after her exertion, and I jumped down from her back, rolling as I lost my footing and ignoring the pain. "Uncle Garrow!" I cried out in despair. "Tabatha!" Nothing came in response. Pillars of black smoke rose from every part of the house and the ruined pieces of the barn smoldered as their flames died. "Uncle Garrow! Tabatha!" I called again. I made my way toward the house, dragging my legs through the snow that was now halfway up my shins.

_'Eragon!'_ Saphira called desperately, letting out a fearsome moan. _'Be careful!'_ I burst through the wreckage of the door and it splintered apart. I searched desperately, not recognizing anything. Everything was a ruined mess. When I entered what I thought to be the kitchen, I saw a hand protruding from the shards of broken wood that littered the floor. Garrow!

Frantically, I tore through the wood to get him out. He was almost free, but a beam that had once supported the ceiling was now blocking my way. I rammed my shoulder into it, but it did not budge. No matter how hard I pushed or pulled, it did not move an inch _. 'Saphira!'_ I called with my mind. _'I need your help!'_ The great blue dragon burst through the debris and levered her broad shoulder under the beam. We both pushed with all our might and the beam gave way, tumbling to the side and revealing Garrow lying still beneath it. I grabbed him by the ankles when it became clear he was unconscious and took him out away from the burning house. As I looked down on him, lying helplessly there in the snow, my heart filled with dread.

He was badly burned, and the burns were a chalky white, the sores oozing clear fluid. This was not good. If this was what Garrow looked like, I couldn't imagine what Tabatha's fate was, if she was even alive. My heart filled with anger when I realized it was the strangers I'd seen the day before that had done this. And I was the one who'd led them right to it! Pushing my anger aside, I grabbed a long wooden board and a few leather straps to make a sort of sleigh to put Garrow on. Once I was sure he was comfortable, I searched for Tabatha, screaming out her name until my throat was raw. In spite of the cold, the flames were only growing, until they engulfed the entire house and the wood frame crumbled apart into a pile of charred blackness. If Tabatha had still been in the house, there was no denying her fate. But perhaps she'd escaped, or maybe the strangers had taken her... Nevermind, I wouldn't think about that now. Once I'd gotten Garrow safely to Gertrude's in town, I would come back to find Tabatha.

_'We'll find her, Eragon,'_ Saphira said, angling herself to the side as I drug Garrow over on the board.

_'Can you carry us both, Saphira?'_ I asked in desperation, ignoring her reassurances.

_'I must,'_ she replied. I tied the board and Garrow onto Saphira's legs with more of the leather straps and climbed back atop her, pain shooting throughout my body. She catapulted into the sky but hovered for a moment, flapping her wings desperately. For that moment, I feared she wouldn't make it, but with a powerful surge of her wings, we began to move forward. The ground moved slowly beneath us, and I felt my eyes beginning to close as the pain from my legs grew even worse. The town came into my view, but the tree line began to come up closer to us. We were losing altitude, and fast.

_'I'm not going to make it, Eragon!'_ she exclaimed. Saphira set down carefully on the ground, making sure not to crush Garrow in the process. I jumped off of her, untying the leather straps from her legs and retying them around my own waist.

_'Go back and find a place to hide,'_ I told her, summoning all of my strength to drag Garrow behind me on the board. _'And if you can, try and find Tabatha.'_

_'Of course,'_ she replied before vaulting into the air. The going was slow as his weight seemed to grow, but it was not long before the houses of Carvahall came into my view. I saw Horst's house on the hill in front of me, and adjacent to it, Gertrude's house, but by that time I was utterly exhausted. My vision started to go black and the ground suddenly rushed up to meet me. My face landed in the cold snow and I felt myself slip away into the darkness.


	6. Death's Call

Tabatha's POV

When I opened my eyes the sun was shining and I lay on the ground. I had a splitting headache and there was excruciating pain coming from the right side of my torso. I tried to move but that only made the pain worsen. I placed my hand on the spot where the pain was coming from and when I drew back my hand to look, it was completely covered in bright, crimson blood. I cried out and clenched my side as I suddenly remembered what happened earlier this morning; at least, I thought it was this morning. I had no idea what time or day it was. I had been trekking through the Spine but I'd gone the wrong way and had found myself back at the road. There, I saw two strangers dressed in all black. Their voices were strange to my ears, like the hissing of snakes, but I heard them talking about Saphira's egg. They were going to attack Garrow's farm! I quickly stole away from their camp and ran as fast as I could to the farm, but I had been too late. The strangers had already come and planted their strange weapons and the farm had been razed to the ground. As I watched in horror, an explosion suddenly rocked the barn. It knocked me off my feet and sent me flying backwards. A bolt of pain went through my side and I found that I was unable to walk. I crawled away from the flames and eventually passed out amongst the trees.

I could see black pillars of smoke rising not too far away. The blast must have blown me farther than I thought, for I hadn't crawled that far, at least I didn't think that I had. I tried to turn over but I found that my side hurt even more before it had touched the ground. Oh gods, now I realized what had happened. I looked down and saw that there was a large piece of wood stuck in my side. It must have hit me with the blast from the barn. I screamed out in pain as I touched the piece of shrapnel, the pain ripping through my side and my muscles twitching in agony. I thought I may have sprained my ankle as well for it was throbbing with pain.

I braved another look down at my side and grimaced in disgust. The piece of wood looked like it was black with rot and it was covered in my own blood. There were at least four inches of wood sticking out of me and most likely another two embedded in my side. The pure, white snow all around me had been stained with a shock of crimson blood.

The pain became almost unbearable, and I nearly passed out a couple of times. Hot tears stung my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I continued to cry out, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear me. I lay there, writhing in pain in a pool of my own blood. When it seemed that I would die right there in the freezing cold, alone and helpless, a dark shadow passed overhead. I looked up and saw a sparkling, blue mass flying through the air. "Saphira!" I called out, the pain obvious in my voice. She circled a few times and finally alighted on the ground in the clearing I was lying in.

' _Tabatha!'_ I heard her call inside my head. It felt strange, for I had never communicated with her before, but the pain was so overwhelming that I really didn't pay attention, as long as she was here.

"Help!" I called out, still clutching my side. She quickly came over and sniffed at my wound, her head recoiling in shock and a low hiss emanating from her throat.

' _You're hurt badly, Tabatha. I must get you to Carvahall,'_ she said. I shook my head as the tears continued to flow.

"I don't think I'll be able to make it there. I can't walk," I cried, looking up into her great, sapphire eyes.

' _I can fly you to the outskirts of town. I won't be seen,'_ she said, pleading with me.

"No. I can't move," I replied, groaning in pain.

' _You must!'_ she snapped, gnashing her teeth together, the snapping sound reverberating in the quiet of the clearing. ' _You will die if you stay here, and Eragon would never forgive me if I let that happen! Get on my back!'_ She didn't have to tell me twice after that, the anger in her voice was so frightening. Saphira angled her back so it would be easier for me to climb on. I slowly crawled over to her and the pain was absolutely excruciating. I cried out every time the pain shot through my side, but I pushed forward, knowing this was the only way.

I grabbed hold of one of her neck spikes and hauled myself up with all the strength that I had. It took more effort than I possessed to put my leg over her side, but I finally made it. ' _Hang on!'_ she called. It was all I could do to keep from slipping off. After a while of immense pain, Saphira slowed and landed on the ground. I slowly slipped off her back and gained some of my balance back. At least I could stand now, though my ankle was still throbbing with sharp pains. I turned to Saphira and rested my head against her nose. "Thank you, Saphira," I whispered, "for saving my life."

' _Be careful not to be seen by the soldiers,'_ she said, snorting slightly.

"I will," I replied. With that, she jumped into the sky and flew back in the direction of the farm. As she flew away I realized that I was very weak without her there to support me. I'd lost a lot of blood back in the clearing, and it was getting harder and harder to stand. Slowly, I staggered through the snow toward Carvahall. Saphira had taken me along a back road that was little known, so there weren't any soldiers around, and I silently thanked her for that. The road came into town right behind Brom's house. Not far from that was Aunt Elain and Uncle Horst's house. That's where I was headed.

The walk took longer than it normally would have; I had barely any strength left. As I walked, I could feel the blood leaking out in between my fingers and trickling down my leg, and the tears flowed down my face with every step. I stole a glance behind and saw that I was leaving a trail of blood behind me. Gods above and below, the soldiers will certainly find me now…

I saw my aunt and uncle's house on the hill come into view. I didn't think I was going to make it… no, I _knew_ I wasn't going to make it. Brom's house was right next to me so I staggered to his front door. I hung on to the doorframe for support and weakly knocked on the door with my fist. After a moment, Brom opened the door in alarm. He looked at me in surprise and then looked down at my hand clutching my side.

"Tabatha!" he exclaimed. All of my strength was lost so I could only collapse into his chest. He caught me swiftly and lifted me up into his arms.

"Take me to my aunt and uncle's," I croaked, my voice weak and my eyelids growing heavy. "Take me…" Brom began to run. As he did, my head lolled back and my hair cascaded down over his arm, the jolting of his running sending sharp pains through my head. The harsh winter sun burned my eyes, and I thought that I was going to die right then. He finally reached the house and beat against the door with his foot.

I heard the door open but I didn't see who had done it, for my eyes were closed, and I felt they would never open again. A gasp emanated from the doorway and I recognized my aunt's voice as she began to speak.

"Oh, gods. Horst!" she screamed, her voice a panic. "Come quickly!" I heard frantic footsteps as Brom swept me into the house, pushing past several people and towards the stairs that led to the upper level.

"Tabatha!" That was Eragon... I tried to open my eyes to look at him and let him know that I was alright, even though I knew that I wasn't, but they would not answer to my will, no matter how much I begged. I tried reaching out and I felt my hand brush against something. A hand grasped mine as Brom carried me up the stairs. "Tabby," I heard Eragon whisper in my ear, "I'm right here. I'm not going to leave you." I felt myself being laid on a bed and heard my aunt ordering Albriech to fetch Gertrude, the town healer.

The bed was comfortable, and it felt wonderful to be back in my own room, but the pain took precedence over all of that. It overruled the comforting hand on my forehead, and the warm grasp that clutched my hand that I knew must be Eragon's. After what seemed like forever, someone burst into the room.

"Everyone get out!" Gertrude commanded, her voice hoarse with age. The old woman was small and fragile, but she could be intimidating and frightening when she wanted to be. The mystery hand slipped away from my forehead-I thought it might be Brom's, but it was far too soft to belong to the grizzled old man-and Eragon's hand left my own. Gertrude took her place by the bed and the door closed. All was silent.

"Tabatha," Gertrude said, "open your eyes. Look at me." I don't know how it happened, but I slowly opened my eyes to look into her kind, old face. I tried taking in a deep breath, but I found that a splitting pain went through my lungs. I could only take short, ragged breaths without it hurting too badly, though it still did.

"Eragon," I slowly whispered, my voice coming out of my throat in ragged croaks.

"He is here," she said, smiling kindly, "but you'll have to wait. Listen to me. This is going to hurt, so prepare yourself. I'm going to pull the piece of wood out of your side." I slowly nodded and looked up at the ceiling, gripping the sides of the bed to prepare myself as tears flowed from my eyes. I drew in my breath slowly, and then...

 

* * *

 

Eragon's POV

A blood-curdling, ear-splitting scream came from the room where Tabatha lay dying. Elain began to sob as the cries of pain continued. Horst couldn't bear to hear anymore, so he sprang from his chair and left, hurrying out the back door. But I stayed. I had to remain strong, for Tabatha. The cries finally died down and eventually ceased altogether. Gertrude emerged from the room, her face grave. Brom stepped out of a shadowy corner to hear what the healer had to say, arms crossed over his chest and eyes hooded in shadow.

"How is she?" Brom asked quietly. Gertrude sighed heavily, her eyes downcast. Those eyes spoke more than her words ever could.

"Not well, I'm afraid. Not well at all," she said. "The wound was deep; I pulled out at least another three inches. But the bleeding won't stop. She's already lost an extremely large amount of blood and it's made her very weak, and she's continuing to lose even more. It does not look good at all. I'm afraid that if I can't stop the bleeding within the next twenty-four hours then she will die." Brom put a hand to his face and looked down in despair. "There's more," Gertrude continued, drawing silence from everyone gathered in the room. "One of her ribs was broken and it's pierced her right lung. She can hardly breathe at all. That may kill her before the blood-loss will. I'm afraid that all I can do now is change her bandages and hope for the best."

My heart plummeted into my stomach at everything that Gertrude said. Tabatha is dying? That can't be! I won't let this happen! A dull throbbing still ran through my legs, but my wounds seemed so insignificant next to Tabby's and Garrow's.

"She's been asking for you, Eragon," Gertrude said, snapping me from my thoughts, "and I don't know how long it will be before we lose her, so I suggest that you go in and say your goodbyes right now." Her words hurt and I tried to ignore them. I was not going to let Tabby die. I went past the old woman and through the door to Tabby's room.

Tabatha looked so helpless as she lay on that bed with bloody bandages wrapped around her waist. Her eyes were closed and her long, wavy dark hair fell across her face. She looked so beautiful, even though she was about to answer Death's call. Death was a cruel master. First it had taken my mother, then my Aunt Marian who'd been like a mother to me, and now He was about to take Tabatha as well, the only girl I'd ever cared about.

I walked over to the side of the bed and sat down, just staring at her for a while. I reached over and swept her hair out of her face. As my fingers brushed across the soft skin of her cheek, she breathed in and opened her lovely, violet eyes to look at me. "Eragon," she said softly. Her voice sent shivers down my spine; it was full of pain and hopelessness, something I'd never heard from her before.

"Hey, Tabby," I said, smiling to try and make her feel better, "how are you feeling?" She laughed bitterly and I could tell by the look on her face that it hurt her more than I could know.

"I'm dying. How are you?" she said, trying to smile back.

"Don't say that," I said, stroking her cheek gently. "I promise, Tabatha, I will save you."

She laughed bitterly again."There's nothing that can save me now," she whispered. "Just let me go."

"I can't do that," I said firmly, grabbing her hand and squeezing. "I _won't_ do that." Tabatha smirked and rolled her eyes playfully. A sheen of sweat was starting to break out on her forehead. I went to the small table on the other side of the room that held the water basin, got a clean towel and soaked it, and brought it back to dab her forehead.

"You're so stubborn, Eragon," she said, placing her own hand on my cheek. "Why can't you just let this happen? I'm willing to accept it." I laughed at her. She may have been able to tell when anyone was lying, but she wasn't a great liar herself.

"I may be stubborn, but so are you, Tabby. Even more so than I am." At least she was smiling now.

"Saphira saved my life," she whispered, gripping my hand tightly, so tight that my knuckles started to turn white. "If it weren't for her I would have died out there in the forest. Please thank her for me."

"You can do that yourself, Tabby." She was being very pessimistic, but I didn't blame her. I don't know what I would do were I in her position. "I have to go, but I'll be back soon," I said, getting up from the chair by the bed. Gaining some courage, I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. Tabby reached her hand up and placed it on the back of my neck, just holding my head there for a moment. I slowly pulled away and stroked her on the cheek one last time. I stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. She smiled and wiggled her fingers in a weak wave. I smiled back and then left her.

After I left, Elain went in after me. She was still bawling. I went in to see my uncle as Gertrude was changing his bandages. "How is he?" I asked her.

"Better than Tabatha," she replied, "his fever has gone down a bit."

"Good," I said. After I sat with him for a while, I went downstairs to get something to eat: I was famished. As I sat there, Horst kept asking me what had happened. He mentioned the fact that the barn was completely blown apart. He also spoke of tracks in the snow of a huge beast. Tracks of the like he'd never seen before. I knew he was speaking of Saphira's tracks. I told him that I'd seen the strangers that he had told me about and rushed home as fast as I could. I said that nothing happened that night but the next morning, after I had finished my chores, I went walking in the forest. During my walk I heard an explosion and saw smoke above the trees. I'd rushed back to the house but whoever had done it was already gone. I told him that I'd dug through the wreckage and found Garrow. He asked about the wounds on my legs and I said that I didn't know, but it must have happened when I had dug through the debris.

After that, they all dropped it and promised me that Albriech and Baldor were leaving soon to go deliver the news to Roran in Therinsford. When I was done eating I went back upstairs and stopped in to see Garrow again. Gertrude was still sitting with him. "How is he?" I whispered.

"About the same," she replied. "Some of the burns look better. We'll have to wait and see, but this could mean that he'll recover." This lightened my mood a bit, though a dark shadow was still hanging over the whole house.

"What about Tabatha?" I asked, hoping the answer would be just as good. Gertrude sighed and hung her head. "Nothing's changed at all. I still can't stop the bleeding and there's nothing I can do about her pierced lung. I just went in to check on her and she's sleeping now, but Eragon, I want you to prepare for the worst. There's a very high chance that she may die in the night," she said, shaking her head. I couldn't reply to that so I just left without saying another word. What could I say to that?

My room was dark and unfriendly. I huddled beneath the blankets and finally fell into a fitful and dreamless sleep.

When I awoke, it was pitch black and freezing. I could hear people crying down the hallway and a sudden dread gripped my heart in its icy clutches. Oh no…Tabatha! I jumped out of bed and hurried down the hallway, but the door to Tabatha's room was closed. It was the door to Garrow's room that was open and where all the people were clustered. Slowly, I pushed through all of the people gathered there. Garrow lay peacefully on the bed. He was dressed in clean clothes, his hair had been combed back, and his face was calm. He might have been sleeping if not for the silver amulet clasped around his neck and the sprig of hemlock on his chest, the last gifts from the living to the dead.

The world had slowed down to a screeching halt. I pushed past Elain and knelt by the edge of the bed, just looking at his face. It seemed as though he would open his eyes at any moment, and then he would laugh and say I looked as though I'd seen a ghost. But his eyes would never open again, and I wouldn't hear his laugh anymore, except in my memories. I was so overcome with emotion that I lay my head down on the bed and began to sob convulsively, unable to contain myself. I just let myself go without caring what everyone else around me thought. After a while, Elain put a hand on my shoulder and led me back to my bedroom. I crawled back in the bed and fell unwillingly back into sleep, the tears continuing to flow down my face.

 

* * *

 

Tabatha's POV

It was early morning when I was awoken from my uncomfortable sleep by the sounds of low voices and people crying. I knew that Garrow was in the room next to me and that he was badly wounded. He must have died sometime in the night. Footsteps could be heard coming quickly down the hallway and I knew that Eragon had been roused from his sleep as well. The room next to me fell silent as I heard Eragon enter. After a few moments of silence, a mournful wailing and sobbing filled the air and echoed throughout the house. I knew it was Eragon, and my chest ached for him. I wished with all my heart that I could be in the room to comfort him in his time of sorrow, but I could barely move my arms let alone get out of bed. All I could do was stare at the blank ceiling and let the tears roll down my cheek at the loss of the man who had been like my father for the past month.

The wind howled outside my window, rattling the panes. Its howling sounded like Eragon's sobbing, and their voices mixed until Eragon's voice died down. I heard footsteps retreating back down the hallway, and the soft murmuring of the voices continued in the room next to me.

"I don't understand," I heard Aunt Elain's voice cut through the rest of them. "He seemed fine today. I don't understand how this happened."

"His wounds were strange to me," Gertrude replied. "I'd never seen anything like them before. Those burns did not come from any fire, at least, not one that I've ever seen the like of. The fire seems to have been started with some kind of accelerant; I think that's what caused the burns. It attributed to his death, I'm sure of it."

"Tabby will be heartbroken," my aunt muttered, so low I almost couldn't hear it.

"I should check on her," Gertrude said, her footsteps coming nearer to my room. The door creaked open and the light of the lantern she was carrying bathed the room in a warm, orange glow. The old woman came to my bedside and pulled up the chair that had been placed in the room for those visiting me today. I kept my eyes closed, hoping that she wouldn't try to start a conversation. I was far too tired for that right now. She pulled back the sheets that covered me and inspected the wound on my side, drawing her lantern close. I reveled in the warmth it gave off, as it had gotten colder in my room with the fall of night. I heard her gasp and couldn't help but flinch, I just hoped she didn't notice. After another moment of inspection, she covered my wound again and pressed down a bit where the healing salve was. The floors creaked under her footsteps and she left the room, taking the light and warmth with her. What had she seen that had given her cause for alarm? Was I going to die tonight?


	7. The Journey Begins

Tabatha's POV

I awoke in the early morning hours, the grey winter dawn hanging below the horizon outside the window as I stared out at the empty streets. After a somewhat good night's sleep I found that I could sit up on my own now. There was still a sharp pain in my side, but it wasn't as unbearable as yesterday. I slowly pulled myself out of bed, the sharp pains worse in my rib cage and lungs. I must have broken a rib. I had heard Gertrude say something about my lung being pierced to Brom and Eragon yesterday. A broken rib was the only logical explanation I could think of.

I reached for my boots and pulled them over the clean pants I'd dug out of a drawer in the dresser Uncle Horst had made for me when I was a child. I had a new tunic as well since the other one was completely ruined. It was long-sleeved, unlike the other one. Slowly, I got up and pulled my winter cloak from the chair by my bed and clasped it around my shoulders.

I didn't think anyone was awake yet so I crept out into the hallway. I knew where my dagger had been put because it was where Aunt Elain had put it when I'd first received it from Brom. She disapproved and didn't want me having it, but I'd finally convinced her to let me keep it. The dagger would definitely be in the hall closet around the corner.

I quietly tiptoed around the corner and opened up the closet. Sure enough, it was sitting on the shelf second from the top; Aunt Elain wasn't tall enough to reach the top shelf. I grabbed it and stuck it in my right bootleg. Quickly, I began to walk down the hall to go down the stairs to leave, but a peculiar sight out of the corner of my eye in my room stopped me. Eragon was looking around in confusion at my empty bed. I stood in the doorway and looked on in amusement. He opened the window and stuck his head out, peering down into the streets.

"Turn around, silly," I said, startling him. He jumped, hitting his head on the open window. Rubbing the back of his head, he slowly turned around.

"What are you doing out of bed?" he asked quizzically. "And fully dressed at that?"

"I might be asking you the same question," I replied with a cocked eyebrow. An innocent look spread across his face. "Just where were you planning on going at this time in the morning?" He rolled his eyes and huffed.

"I'm leaving Carvahall," he said, "for mine and Saphira's safety. I came here to tell you that I would be back soon and that I am going after those strangers that destroyed the farm and killed Garrow."

"Uh-huh," I said, convoluting my mouth for a moment. "So when do we leave?" Eragon's eyes widened.

"Oh no. Tabatha, you're not coming with us," he protested.

"And why not?" I demanded quietly, taking care not to wake everyone in the house. He could tell that my anger was rising for a flash of fear crossed his face.

"You're not well enough yet, Tabby. Your lung is pierced and I would not endanger you by having you come on this journey," he argued.

"Look at me," I said, holding my arms out to my sides. "I'm well enough to be walking around when I could barely talk yesterday." He seemed to ponder this for a moment. "You asked me once to go on this journey with you, remember? And I told you that I would. I am going to keep my oath whether you like it or not." He sighed in defeat.

"Fine," he grumbled, "let's get going before everyone in town wakes up." I smiled happily and followed closely behind him down the stairs. When we were about to leave the house, Eragon stopped. I heard voices in the other room. I recognized them as my aunt and uncle's and they were locked in conversation.

"…place to stay. We have room." My uncle replied in an inaudible bass rumble. "Yes, the poor boy," my aunt replied.

"Maybe…" Uncle Horst said. There was a long pause. "I've been thinking about what Eragon said, and I'm not sure he told us everything."

"What do you mean?" Aunt Elain asked in that concerned voice that I was only too familiar with.

"When we started for their farm, the road was scraped smooth by the board he dragged Garrow on. Then we reached a place where the snow was all trampled and churned up. His footprints and signs of the board stopped there, but we found the same giant tracks we saw at the farm. And what about his legs? I can't believe he didn't notice losing that much skin. I didn't want to push him for answers earlier, but now I think I will."

"Maybe what he saw scared him so much that he doesn't want to talk about it," Aunt Elain said. "You saw how distraught he was."

"That still doesn't explain how he managed to get Garrow nearly all the way here without leaving any tracks." Aunt Elain and Uncle Horst kept talking but their voices faded when I glanced over at Eragon and saw that he was clearly distressed. Gently, I touched him on the shoulder. His head snapped around and I stared into his deep brown eyes.

"We should go," I whispered as softly as I could. He nodded his head in agreement and we continued on out the side door. I closed the door behind me as quietly as possible and trotted after Eragon.

There were hardly any people awake at this time of the morning, so the roads were relatively clear. "Saphira needs a saddle," Eragon said once we were clear of the house, "so _this_ doesn't happen again." He gestured toward his legs.

"What happened?" I asked in confusion. I wasn't aware that he had any injuries until Uncle Horst had mentioned it a moment ago.

"That's right," he mumbled, "I didn't tell you. I rode Saphira bareback and her scales tore away the skin on my legs." I pondered this for a moment in confusion.

"You must have been moving around too much, because _that_ didn't happen to me." He looked me up and down in confusion and I decided to veer the subject back to its original point. "We can go to Gedric's and take a few skins for Saphira's saddle." Eragon looked regretful at the thought of stealing. "You can pay him back one day." He nodded slightly, knowing that this was the only way.

We each cut down a couple skins from where they hung down off the ceiling off his small shop. The smell of the tanning vats was nearly unbearable. After the dirty work was done, we took the ox hides to a tree that was out of town to hide until all the supplies were gathered.

"We need food now," Eragon said. Suddenly, a devilish grin spread across his face.

"I know that face," I said, mouth twisted in amusement. "What are you up to?"

"If we're going to steal, why not steal from Sloan?" he said slyly. He was being very vindictive right now, but I didn't really pay it any mind. We just needed to make it quick and get out of here as soon as possible.

Silently, we headed over to the butcher's shop. I knew, and I'm sure that Eragon knew as well, that Sloan always kept the front door locked. The side door, however, was only latched with an old, rusty chain. Eragon shoved against the door with his shoulder and the chain easily broke. I kept watch while he took as much meat as he could get his hands on.

"Let's go," he whispered as he came out of the door, his sack bulging from all the meat he had stuffed down in there.

We headed back to the tree where the hides were hidden and I held the meat while he reached for them. Suddenly, his hand recoiled in shock. It was empty. "They're gone," he exclaimed.

"What?" I looked myself and saw that they had indeed been taken.

"You two going somewhere?" We both whirled around at the same time to see Brom standing there, an angry look on his face, an ugly wound on his head. My heart skipped a few beats. In his hands was the roll of hides.

"Give them back," Eragon threatened in a low voice. He was being rather harsh, but then again, he didn't have the same relationship with Brom that I did.

"Why?" Brom snapped back. "So you can run off before Garrow's even buried?"

"It's none of your business!" Eragon barked. Uh-oh, his temper is flared. That's not good. "Why did you follow us?" Brom stole a glance over at me and I averted my eyes shamefully.

"I didn't," Brom growled. "I've been waiting for you here. Now where are you going?"

"Nowhere," Eragon said shortly. He lunged for the skins and snatched them out of Brom's hands. Brom made no attempt to stop him. Eragon turned back to me. "Let's go," he growled. I handed him back the sack of meat and glanced at Brom again.

"I hope you have enough meat to feed your dragon," Brom said in a low voice. Eragon froze where he was standing. Slowly, he turned around, the look on his face one of utter shock.

"What are you talking about?" he said, feigning innocence. How could Brom know? Brom crossed his arms over his chest irritably.

"Don't fool with me, boy. I know where that mark on your hand, the _gedwёy ignasia_ , the shining palm, comes from: you have touched a dragon hatchling. I know why you came to me with those questions, and I know that once more the Riders live." This is not good. I didn't think that Brom would ever betray Eragon, or me, but there's always the chance that those strangers in black forced him to do this.

"How did you find out?" Eragon asked in a hollow voice. Brom looked off into the distance for a moment.

"There were clues and hints everywhere; I had only to pay attention. Anyone with the right knowledge could have done the same. Tell me, how is your dragon?" Brom asked nonchalantly.

"She," Eragon said in a cogent voice, "is fine. We weren't at the farm when the strangers came."

"Ah, your legs," he said knowingly. "You were flying?" Eragon's eyes grew wide and I watched him for a time while he didn't answer. He was probably talking to Saphira. Brom only let a slight smirk light up his face as he leaned against a tree. "I have talked with her and she has agreed to stay above us until we settle our differences. As you can see, you really don't have a choice but to answer my questions. Now tell me, where are you going?" Brom can talk to Saphira! How! Eragon seemed to be just as confused by this as I was. He put a hand up to his temple and started rubbing it tiredly.

"I was going to find a safe place to hide while I heal," he finally lied. I knew what his true intention was. He didn't have to say anything. His heart was lusting for revenge, and he had every intention of filling his insatiable thirst for vengeance. He was going to kill the strangers that destroyed the farm.

"And after that?" Brom asked. Apparently he could also tell that there was more going on in Eragon's mind than he let on. Eragon sighed and glanced over at me.

"I was going to hunt down the strangers and kill them," he said.

"A mighty task for one so young," Brom said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to go around hunting down and killing strangers that destroyed your life completely. "Certainly a worthy endeavour, and one you are fit to carry out, yet it strikes me that help would not be unwelcome." He suddenly pulled out a large pack from nowhere.

"You're not coming with us, are you?" I asked incredulously.

"Of course," he said, his voice bringing on a mockingly hurt tone. "I'm not about to stay behind while you two race off toward sudden death without me. Where's the fun in that?" Brom could be such a joker sometimes. I only smiled fondly at his persistence. Eragon's brow, however, furrowed in annoyance.

"We don't need any help...but you can come," he said begrudgingly after I shot him my most menacing glare.

"Then we had best be going," Brom said. "I think you'll find that your dragon will listen to you again." While Eragon was undoubtedly talking to Saphira, Brom came over to me, a disapproving look on his face. "What are you doing, Tabatha?" he growled.

"What does it look like? I'm getting out of here while I still can," I snapped, probably a bit too harshly. "My presence here is putting everyone in danger. If the soldiers find out that I'm around they'll know that all the townspeople lied to them. I won't put everyone in jeopardy." Brom huffed angrily.

"You're right," he said in a low voice. "Are you sure you're well enough though?"

"I feel fine." That was a lie. There were sharp jolts of pain in my side when I walked and a searing pain in my lungs every time I tried to breathe deeply. It was better than yesterday, but it was still hard to move. That seemed to mollify him though, for he merely grunted and nodded slightly.

Eragon finally came back to us and pointed over to the town. There were people running around and yelling, their voices muffled from this distance. "They must have noticed our absence, Tabby."

"Time to go then, I think," I said, pushing past the two men, and heading in the direction of what remained of Eragon's home.

 

* * *

 

When we finally reached the wreckage of the destroyed farm, a look of anger crossed Eragon's face. Little remained of the barn except for ash and soot. The house was filling with snow and dirt that covered the atrocity that the strangers had committed.

Suddenly, I could hear the sound of Saphira's wings coming through the trees. She circled around behind us and I was nearly knocked over from the gust of wind created by her wings. She landed gracefully, her scales glittering brilliantly.

Brom's expression suddenly became clouded and I did not know what to make of it, as I can usually read people fairly well. It was both mournful, and exuberant at the same time. He started mumbling some words but I couldn't make them out, nor understand them. His mumbling faded away as Saphira stepped forward.

Eragon walked toward the mighty dragon and greeted her, rubbing her neck lovingly. Saphira swung her great head and eyed Brom quizzically. He held a hand out and she moved closer to allow him to touch her. With a snort, she recoiled her head in shock and retreated behind Eragon. That was odd…

"What's her name?" Brom asked, interrupting my thoughts.

"Saphira," Eragon replied. A strange look suddenly passed over Brom's face. He struck the ground with his staff and he became very tense. "Of all the names you gave me, it was the only one she liked. I think it fits," Eragon added swiftly.

"It does," Brom said quietly. There was something odd in his voice. It could have been loss, or wonder, maybe fear, or perhaps envy...or maybe it was nothing at all. I wasn't sure. All that trauma must have dulled my senses: I was finding it harder to pick out the little nuances that usually allowed me to gauge a person's feelings just by looking at them. "Greetings," Brom said, raising his voice, "Saphira. I am honored to meet you." He twisted his hand in a strange way and bowed deeply.

After that little exchange, Eragon silently headed toward the ruined house. Brom followed behind Saphira with renewed vigor. I, however, followed a bit more slowly. The pain in my side had just heightened to where it was difficult to move without crying out. I watched as Eragon disappeared into the house, Brom following suit. He'll be looking for his bow and quiver. Too bad it won't be there. I must have lost it when the explosion knocked me off my feet, for I had it when I first arrived at the burning farm yesterday. Was it really only yesterday when all of this happened? It seemed ages ago.

After a while Eragon emerged from the wreckage-I'd decided not to chance injuring myself further by going inside the ruined building-and looked around in distress. "My bow and quiver are gone!" He looked at me in despair.

"I know," I said tentatively. He glanced at me in confusion. "I took them that night you disappeared when I went looking for you. I think I may have dropped them when I was hit by the wood splinter from the explosion."

"Where did you land? We'll look there first." I nodded and walked by memory to where I had been standing when the explosion hit. When we got there I walked a bit further and then saw the clearing I'd ended up in behind a line of trees. The bow and quiver weren't around anywhere nearby, so they must have been in the clearing. I didn't really want to go in there and see all of my blood that was most likely still frozen in the snow and ice.

When I walked into the clearing I saw a gigantic pool of blood. Sure enough, lying beside it was the bow and quiver. Eragon bent down and picked them up, slinging them both over his shoulders. "My gods, Tabby. You lost an enormous amount of blood."

"I know," I said softly, turning away. "Let's just get out of here, alright?" Eragon nodded slowly.

"What now?" Brom asked, staring down at the ground in morbid awe.

"We find a place to hide," Eragon replied.

"Do you have some place in mind?" I asked skeptically.

A smile spread across his face. "Yes," he replied.

 

* * *

 

The small clearing was just large enough for Saphira and us. Slowly, I helped clear away the snow and sat down on a blanket. Brom made the saddle for Saphira and put it on her to make sure that it fit. It was crude, but it would do for now.

After the saddle was made, Brom and Eragon sat over a simmering pot of stew, just talking for a while. Eragon was asking him all about the Riders of old and who those strangers were that had attacked the farm.

"Do you think dreams can be prophecies?" Eragon suddenly blurted out. Brom seemed taken aback and I stared at him quizzically.

"What do you mean?" I asked, drawing my knees up to my chest for warmth. Brom had started a small fire, but it did little to banish the chill.

"When I was asleep, at your uncle's, after Gertrude had given me the healing salve, I had a very strange dream. I just didn't know if maybe…"

"What was the dream, boy?" Brom inquired, leaning forward a bit.

Eragon seemed to hesitate, looking back and forth between me and Brom. "I dreamt of a ship, there were two people on the ship, and I had the overwhelming feeling that they were never to return. And there were...dragons. They flew overhead as a man stood on the shore, weeping. It didn't make any sense."

"Best not to dwell on it, Eragon," I muttered, pondering his strange dream myself. No good would come of this dream, that much I knew. The pain in my side was even worse than before, and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion came over me, so I decided to sleep to escape the pain. It didn't take long for me to wade into the darkness and lose consciousness. The last thing I saw before falling asleep was Brom pulling out a glistening red sword and holding it over the fire as the two men continued to talk well into the night.


	8. Progress

As I awoke the next morning, blinking back the harsh light of the sun and stretching out the crick in my neck, I was amazed to find that the pain in my side was completely gone. It was almost as though it had never been there in the first place. Slowly, I stood and stretched out my tense muscles, feeling better than ever. Eragon and Brom were already awake, bent over in conversation by the smoldering embers of last night's fire.

"Good morning," I called cheerily, sitting down next to Eragon as he handed me a cold piece of cooked meat from the night before.

"How are you feeling?" Brom asked, eyeing me quizzically.

"Wonderful, actually," I admitted. "The pain in my side is gone." Brom cocked an eyebrow in concern and beckoned me over.

"Let me see your wound," he said. Reluctantly, I lifted the edge of my shirt and peeled away the bandages, preparing for the worst. What I saw there took me completely by surprise.

"It's gone!" I cried, rubbing the smooth skin of my torso. Beneath my bandages was not the grievous wound that had been there yesterday. Instead, there was an oval shaped scar with jagged edges about the size of my hand, stretched and pink.

"Incredible," Brom muttered. He looked into my eyes as if he wanted to say something more, but whatever it was, he held his tongue. "I'm betting that it doesn't hurt anymore when you breathe, does it?"

I tested his theory and found that he was right. "No, it doesn't," I said in confusion. Looking back at Eragon, I found that he seemed just as baffled as Brom and I were.

"It's wonderful, of course," Eragon said slowly, "it's just...strange."

"That it is," Brom agreed. He remained silent in thought for a moment before jumping to his feet. "Come. We'd best be getting on our way. We'll need to find some horses in Therinsford. Tabatha, you'll have to ride with Eragon when he's not on Saphira. I can only buy two horses."

"It's alright," I replied half-heartedly. I didn't really mind all that much, and my mind was still preoccupied with thoughts of the strange case of my wound.

 

* * *

 

We set off about an hour later, after we'd broken down camp and destroyed any evidence that we'd been there at all. Brom swore that Therinsford was only a few miles away from where we were, but on foot it took us a few hours to get there. Eragon flew slowly overhead, close to the trees, in case they needed to duck down to remain out of sight. When we reached the outskirts of town, the pair landed and Eragon instructed her to stay in a small clearing where she could remain hidden.

"We won't be long," he assured her, rubbing her snout softly. She snorted in response, and I'm sure she said something to him. He smiled and nodded and then joined Brom and I as we headed for the road that led into town.

It was more of a small village than a town—and it was certainly bigger than Carvahall—but it had everything that we needed. We found a man that sold horses, and while Brom negotiated with him, Eragon and I perused the stables, eyeing the horses. Eragon stopped at a stall very suddenly, and I nearly ran into the back of him. When I looked over, I could only stop and stare as well. Inside the stall resided a handsome white stallion, his powerful muscles rippling beneath his skin as he pawed the straw floor restlessly. There was a grace and majesty about him, as though he were meant to carry kings and mighty lords.

"He's beautiful," I whispered, fearing that any loud noises would shatter the beautiful image in front of me.

"Aye," Eragon quickly agreed in the same soft tone. Brom noticed us gaping at the animal and asked the man how much he cost. The stable owner seemed reluctant to part with the horse, but he finally conceded, for a very high price, I might add. The horse's name was Snowfire.

That night, as we gathered in a grove of trees further outside of town, we planned our route. Our next stop: Yazuac. It was a little town that lay far across the plains and it would take about a week to get there, and we would be able to stock up on supplies. I was a little concerned, because this was the furthest I'd ever been from home. I'd grown up in suck protected surroundings, and I wasn't sure I was ready to go out into the big world. All of the things that had happened were finally beginning to set in and become overwhelming. So much had occurred in such a short amount of time that it was hard to believe it actually had happened at all.

"Are you alright, Tabby?" Eragon's voice snapped me out of my reverie and back to reality. I looked up at him, tears beginning to well in my eyes.

"Yes, I'm fine," I lied, holding the tears back. He nodded slightly and went back to speaking with Brom, leaving me to my thoughts for the rest of the night.

What did I hope to achieve by coming with Eragon? How could I help him? Everything he needed to know, Brom could tell him. The old man certainly knew more about dragons than I ever would. So what then? How could I ever hope to continue to hide from the Imperial soldiers? And what did they truly want from me? What had I done? I ran over everything I'd ever done in my life, and I couldn't pick out anything that would set me apart from anyone else in town. There was nothing special about me at all. What did the king want? Oh, how tired I am of these secrets!

 

* * *

 

I rode in front of Eragon on Cadoc, the brown stallion that Brom had bought in Therinsford, across a vast expanse of flat, open plains. The wind ripped at our clothes and hair, slicing through to the bone. It wasn't nearly as cold down here as it was up in the mountains, but it was still chilly. I could only hope that the further south we went, the warmer it got. I peered around at the dead grass of the plains and scanned the horizon...There was nothing in sight for miles.

"How far to Yazuac?" I asked over my shoulder, shouting over the howling wind.

"Brom says it's at least another day or so," he yelled back. I wasn't sure I'd be able to last in this hellish place for much longer. Pulling my cloak tighter around my face, I tried to brace against the biting wind as it pushed against my body, nearly throwing me off of the horse a few times.

After another hour or so, ominous thunderheads began rolling in from the southeast, directly ahead of us. A storm was coming, and it was going to be big. We suddenly saw the stalks of the long grass folding under the force of the headwind, and we all braced ourselves against the oncoming gale.

"Saphira!" Eragon yelled skyward. "Land!" I turned and saw her diving for the ground, trying to race the wind. She made it before the blast hit her, but she didn't get her wings folded in time. The wind caught hold of them, ripping them backwards like the sail of a ship. She dug her talons into the ground as the wind began to carry her away. Eragon yanked the reins and turned Cadoc around to race towards her. Jumping from the back of the horse and rolling on the ground to his feet, he sped towards her to help her fold her wings back down. I tried to calm the stallion, as being so close to Saphira frightened him. After a mighty struggle with the wind, the two of them finally succeeded in getting her wings folded underneath her, and they remained in the same spot until the storm passed.

 

* * *

 

The small village of Yazuac came into our sight as dusk was falling. Saphira landed near the Ninor River while we continued on into town. Almost immediately, I could tell something was terribly wrong.

"It's so quiet," I whispered, glancing around nervously. The horses whickered nervously as well, their senses picking up the same feeling I was getting.

"Too quiet," Brom mumbled darkly, scanning the houses around us. "We should go around from the side, in case the Ra'zac are planning an ambush." I nodded in agreement and we moved around the edges of town as quietly as possible. As we made our way to the center of the village, a rancid stench suddenly reached my nose. And then we saw it...

The pile of rotting corpses rose high into the air; the frozen faces of men, women, and children stared out at me with wide eyes locked forever in fear, begging for help but far too late for any to come. My heart fell into my stomach as I saw the infant child impaled upon the spear at the summit of the pile. Tears spilled freely down my face and I had to tear my gaze away from the gruesome scene, burying my face in Eragon's chest as he held me while I cried.

"Who could have done such a thing?" I uttered quietly as I quelled my sobs.

"This was no doing of the Ra'zac," Brom said, getting down off of Snowfire. He knelt in the dirt and examined the trampled ground. "They passed this way, but this is the work of Urgals. I'm sure of it." After a moment's silence for the slaughtered innocents, Brom suddenly stiffened his back going straight as a board. He raced back into Snowfire's saddle. "Ride!" he hissed quietly.

"What's wrong?" I asked in confusion, looking around at the empty streets.

"Urgals still linger here," he explained, spurring Snowfire forward. We needed no more prompting after that.

We almost made it out of town until I was knocked out of the saddle by a great club of a hand. My head hit the ground with a sickening crack and the world seemed to spin around me.

"Tabatha!" I heard Eragon screaming. I tried to tell him that I was okay, but my ears were buzzing wildly and I found that I couldn't raise my head to speak. My vision went blurry and I finally lost consciousness...

 

* * *

 

"Tabby..." I heard a voice calling, as though from a far distance. It was a woman's voice, soft a lilting, like a bell. I could see light, as though at the end of a tunnel. "Tabatha," the voice called again, stronger this time. I knew that I had to find that voice, though I couldn't say why. With all of my might, I sped towards the light, crying out.

"Tabatha, please wake up," Eragon said, his voice cutting through the haze of my stupor. I opened my eyelids and saw him kneeling over me, his hands on my shoulders.

"Eragon," I croaked. He smiled and pushed a piece of hair out of my face.

"Brom! She's awake!" he called over his shoulder, his voice splitting my head with pain.

"Oh gods," I groaned as he helped me into a sitting position. "I feel like I've been hit with a ton of bricks. What happened?"

"An Urgal gave you a pretty nasty knock on the head," Brom explained as he came over to us.

"How kind of him," I replied sarcastically, rubbing my temple to try and stop the throbbing.

"We thought you were a goner back there," Eragon continued, his hand remaining on my back. "When we couldn't wake you up I thought..."

"Wait," I snapped, cutting him off. "How long have I been unconscious?" Eragon looked over at Brom nervously but he finally answered.

"A few days, at least. We've traveled further down the river and gone into Daret to get supplies already," he said. Gods above and below, why did this always happen to me! "I got some medicine from a healer there and she said it would help revive you. I guess she was right." Eragon held out a little vial flue of dark blue liquid. I inspected it, and then pulled out the cork to smell it. It had a woodsy fragrance, like pine needles and tree sap, and it evoked a memory in me. A memory of a young woman... As Eragon took the vial back and replaced it in his pocket, the memory vanished, but I couldn't help but think it had been a memory of my mother.

"Thank you," I said, standing up with the help of his shoulder. I swayed for a moment but the pain in my head was slowly dissipating, and I could soon move around on my own.

"Are you sure it's a good idea for you to be walking around?" Eragon asked in concern, following closely behind me.

"Yes, Eragon, I'm fine. Stop acting like my mother," I replied darkly, narrowing my eyes at him. Really! He could be so overprotective of me sometimes.

"But-" he began to protest.

"No, Eragon," Brom interjected. "Tabatha's right. She should be walking around and trying to regain her strength. Actually, I'm surprised that you're alive at all, Tabby. That wound on your head should have killed you. Anyone else would have bled to death..." I pondered that for a moment. This is just the same as the wound on my stomach. It healed far quicker than is humanly possible, and well as my broken rib and punctured lung. Something is wrong here, and I had a sneaking suspicion that Brom knew what it was.

"Well then," I said bitterly, "I suppose I'm just lucky to be alive after all that's happened to me." Brom and I stared at one another for a moment, and I hoped he realized why I was angry with him.

"Come on," Eragon said darkly, pushing between us to get to the horses, "we better get moving."

"Indeed," I agreed with a huff.

"I'm going to ride Saphira today," he said, clambering up her foreleg and into the saddle. I mounted Cadoc on my own and nodded at him as they flew off into the sky, Saphira's scales glittering like that of a fish in the bright sunlight. Brom began to ride off through the trees and I spurred Cadoc forward, following in quick pursuit.

"What's gotten into him?" I asked. "He's acting so...strange. I can take care of myself!" This last part I yelled toward the sky where the pair was soaring overhead.

"Calm down, Tabby," Brom laughed. "You two are best friends. He's only trying to help."

"Yes, well he never liked it when I tried to 'help' him. I don't see why he would think I wouldn't do the same!" Brom laughed again heartily, which only gave me cause to be angrier. "Hey! You have no room to laugh, old man."

"What?" he asked innocently, shrugging and holding out his hands.

"You are just as infuriating as Eragon is," I said, jabbing a finger accusingly at him. "You and your little secrets are driving me insane. I know that you have an idea of what's going on with me, and I want some answers." Brom's face fell from its joking demeanor.

"Tabatha," he said quietly. "I have been meaning to speak with you about this for a very long time. But now is not the proper moment."

"Will it ever be?" I asked bitterly. Brom looked as though he was about to respond when he stopped suddenly, reining Snowfire in. He jumped down out of the saddle and knelt to the ground. I followed his lead and pulled Cadoc to a stop. After another moment, Eragon and Saphira landed close by. Brom must have called them.

"What is it?" Eragon asked, coming over to where Brom was still inspecting the ground.

"Tracks," Brom muttered, running a hand over the smooth dirt. "The Ra'zac's trail is gone." He was right. The tracks had stopped suddenly and all that remained were large gashes in the ground.

"Look at those marks!" Eragon exclaimed. "They're just like the ones that Saphira makes when she takes off. The Ra'zac have flying mounts!"

"I had heard rumors of this," the old man mumbled, standing up with a look of deep concentration on his face. "It seems that the rumors are true. There's no denying that these marks were made by winged creatures." Eragon held a look of consternation on his face and then suddenly stalked off angrily into the trees. It didn't take long for him to return.

"Look at this!" he exclaimed in excitement. In his hands, he held a canister of pure silver. Slowly, he handed it over to Brom's outstretched hand. "Be careful, it-"

"Burns the skin, I know," Brom retorted sharply, cutting him off. "I'm surprised you didn't drink it. There would be nothing but a puddle left of you if you had."

"What is it?" I asked as he took a sniff. He handed it over to me as well and I brought the lip of the opening to my own nose. I inhaled deeply and was surprised to find that it held no scent.

"Oil from the petals of the seither plant," he replied. "It's normally used by jewelers for treating pearls, but, when treated with magic, it burns away the skin and eats anything that is alive. It's the favored weapon of the Ra'zac. It's also what killed your uncle, I'm afraid." Eragon looked deep in thought, stewing on whatever dark thoughts were circulating in his head. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he looked up at Brom.

"Do the merchants that sell the oil to jewelers keep shipping records?" he asked hurriedly, his hands shaking a bit.

"Yes," Brom replied slowly, "they have to."

"In all the coastal cities?" he continued. Brom's face suddenly lit up.

"Yes!" he exclaimed. It snapped in my mind and I suddenly saw where Eragon was going with this.

"If we could get a hold of these records, we could find out where the Empire is sending the seither oil and, by extension, where the Ra'zac are!" I chimed in, clapping my hands together loudly.

"Exactly!" Eragon cried, a wide grin on his boyish face.

"We'll start with Teirm. It's the closest, and I've got an old friend there, Jeod, who may be able to help us," Brom said.

"Good," I muttered, "we're finally getting somewhere with this chase."

 

* * *

 

It was nearly a fortnight later before Teirm finally came into our sights, and it was the largest city I'd ever seen! Buildings towered over one another, seemingly in a race with each other to the sky. The sounds of the sea floated over the air, and seagulls screeched and cried to one another as they flew over the city. The whole place seemed to be shining, and there was a fresh scent of salt air permeating everything. I couldn't believe that a city this large could be so clean! And it was amazing to me that human hands could have built something so magnificent.

"It's beautiful," I breathed as I continued to gaze down at the glimmering port city from the hill we'd stopped on. We'd had to cross back through the mountains to get to Teirm, but it was much warmer here in the south at this lower altitude. I still needed my winter cloak, but the chill was not so deep as in the Spine.

"I don't know how safe it is for you to come with us, Tabby," Brom said. "This place is crawling with Imperial soldiers. Galbatorix has his dirty hands in every sort of mercantile enterprise in the whole Empire. They'll be watching carefully. It might be best for you to stay here with Saphira until we can properly gauge the situation."

"Very well," I glowered, jealousy seeping into my heart as I realized it was very likely I'd be missing out on most of the events of this journey. Now I understood how Saphira felt all the time, having to hide. Just when we were finally starting to make some progress, I was being left behind again.


	9. Truths Shattered

"You know, I can relate to you now. And you're right, Saphira. You're absolutely right…This is terrible…completely terrible..." I'm not really sure why I was talking out loud; Saphira could hear my thoughts, for goodness sake! But I wanted to feel like I was getting some kind of human interaction, even though I was fully aware that she was a dragon. I'd only been up on this cliff with Saphira for one day, but it was already starting to get to me.

' _That it is,'_ she replied. ' _Now you know why I was so angry with Eragon when he wouldn't ride me and I could never be around civilization. I just felt so…alone.'_

' _So do I,'_ I said, returning to speaking with my mind. At first, the feeling of her consciousness in my mind was strange, like someone was putting pressure on my head, but I was getting used to it slowly. ' _Even in Carvahall, I just felt out of place. I lived there for so long, but now, looking back, it never really felt like home to me.'_

' _So where is your home?'_ Saphira asked, swinging her massive head around to stare at me with one great, sapphire eye.

I laughed bitterly and threw a stick that was close to me over the edge of the cliff where we were perched, looking down on the port city. ' _I wish I knew,'_ I said. ' _Maybe if I knew who my mother and father were, then I would know where to call home.'_

' _You don't know who your parents were?'_ Saphira asked, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

' _No,'_ I replied sadly. ' _My aunt and uncle never spoke of them. I think it pained Uncle Horst too much to speak of his sister and brother-in-law. But, Aunt Elain did tell me once that my mother was very beautiful. She always says that I look more and more like her every day. I don't even know their names...'_

' _I don't know who my parents were either,'_ Saphira said, undoubtedly trying to cheer me up, ' _but I suppose that it is different for humans than it is for dragons. Humans must be nurtured by their parents until they reach adulthood, but a dragon hatchling can survive only on instinct if it has to.'_

' _Thanks, Saphira,'_ I said bitterly.

' _I was only trying to help,'_ she said, her voice injured. I didn't want to make her feel bad, but she wasn't exactly helping my predicament. ' _I'm sorry.'_

' _Don't apologize,'_ I said. ' _It's fine.'_ I withdrew contact from her mind; I didn't feel like talking anymore.

Instead, I hurled myself into my favored pastime of imagining what my parents were like and who they were. My father was always handsome and strong. He could do anything. He was mighty and brave, but there was a gentler side to him, and he could be caring. He would play with me as a child and teach me to read, the way that Brom had. He'd show me how to fight with a sword or with a dagger, or to shoot a bow. And he was always there to hold me when I cried.

My mother, however, was beautiful and fierce, like the mountains that surrounded our home. She was independent and strong willed: a fighter, a warrior, but also kind and fair-minded. She always followed her heart, no matter what those around her had to say about it. I liked to imagine her like me in a lot of ways, but also different in the fact that she was grounded. She knew who she was, and she wasn't afraid to show it. I also liked to think that I got some of my sarcasm and wit from her too, but that was just a secret desire.

Oh, how I wished I knew them! If they were still alive, I'm sure they could tell me what's going on with me. I knew that Brom knew what it was, but he just refused to tell me. But, the next time I got him alone, I would force him to tell me. If I was in danger-and I knew that I was-then I had a right to know! I just want to know the truth. Or maybe I don't…Ugh! I don't know what I want anymore! I just wish none of this had ever happened!I wish that I'd never met Eragon or Brom! I wish the soldiers had never come! I wish there was no such thing as the damned Ra'zac! I just want things back to the way they used to be!

But I knew, deep down inside, that things could never be the same. There would still have come a time where I would have searched for the truth about my past, even if none of this had ever happened. Events would have been different, but the results would still be the same: I would still be ignorant and miserable, with everyone refusing to answer my questions.

Saphira suddenly broke into my consciousness. ' _Eragon is coming,'_ she said. Good! Now I can give him a piece of my mind for leaving me behind and…no. No, I wouldn't do that. He's stressed enough as it is without having to worry about me being mad at him. I'll just leave him alone…for now.

It took him a while, and a bit of help from Saphira, to get to the top of the cliff, but he finally made it. He clambered over the edge of the cliff, Saphira dropping him from her mighty jaws, and rubbed the dirt off of his clothes.

"Hello," he called over to me timidly.

"Hi," I called back half-heartedly. He sat down beside me, Saphira lowering her massive body down next to him. "So, how's Teirm?"

"It's wonderful!" he said, his eyes gleaming. "The city is huge! There's so many buildings and shops and people. I've never seen anything like it! You would love it, Tabatha. They have this building that's dedicated entirely to books and scrolls, and you can go there anytime of day to read, whenever you like. It's called a 'library'. Brom says there's tons of them in the larger cities. I can't imagine a city being bigger than that!"

"Wonderful," I mumbled, my heart sinking from the jealousy clasped within it. I had resolved not to be angry with him, but he was making it extremely difficult.

"I'm sorry you couldn't come, Tabby. Really, I am," he tried to comfort me. It wasn't working.

"It's fine," I said, hiding my anger from him. It wasn't so much that I was angry about not being able to go, I was just so frustrated about so many different things, that I was afraid that all my anger and wrath would come flooding out all at once. It's like they say: "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned", and I wanted nothing more than to go into the city right now and to find out what Brom was hiding from me.

Eragon looked at me sadly and made to say something else, but he thought better of it. Smart move. He turned away from me and looked over at Saphira, no doubt conversing with her about all of the wonderful things he'd done and seen. I called goodbye as Saphira chartered him back down to the bottom of the cliff at sunset.

Night soon fell and I wrapped myself in a blanket to go to sleep, resting my head on top of my arm and staring at the night sky. The moon shone down bright and clear, reflecting off the waters of the sea beyond the city. Stars wheeled above, their numbers unfathomable; sentinels watching over me in the night. As I drifted away, my head was swimming with thoughts, but all I could really think of was my mother and father.

 

* * *

 

That night, my head filled with strange dreams. I couldn't remember most of them come morning, except for one…

_I was in a large palace, like the citadel Brom had described to me that was in Uru'baen. The halls twisted and turned as I ran through them, searching for something. As I turned corners and traced my path through the corridors, I could just make out someone in front of me: a woman, with long, flowing dark hair, a circlet of purest silver around her head. She wore an intricate dress of dark blue silk with silver embroidery around the hem and the edges of the sleeves. She was running as well, though I could not tell from what. Was it me? I called after her in a language that was strange to my own ears, but she never turned._

_As I rounded another of the corners in the hallway, I saw a long corridor of stone stretching before me, glass-paned windows lining one side, and torches adorning the wall of the other. It was dark here, and the flickering flames of the torches cast strange shadows upon the walls. It suddenly felt very cold and I could see my breath coming out in front of me. I wrapped my arms around myself and couldn't help the fit of shivering that came over me._

" _Hello?" I called into the darkness, my own voice echoing back to me off the stone, 'Hello, hello, heeelllooo...'. There was a figure standing at the end of the hall, moving restlessly, like an animal trapped in a cage, pacing back and forth at the dead end where the corridor stopped. "Who's there?" The shadowy figure stopped and turned to me slowly. I made my way down the corridor, my footsteps crashing loudly against the stone floor. "Who are you?" I called as I drew closer. I took a torch from its sconce on the wall and held it aloft in front of me to light the way._

_I thought that the figure was the woman I'd been following before, but as it came into the light, I saw that it was a man. He was tall, broad of shoulder, with dark features. His brow was furrowed, as though he were deep in thought, and the straight lines of his nose and jaw stood in stark relief against the torchlight, creating long shadows that marred his face to look like a demon. He had long, straight black hair and he wore an amused grin on his face, his slightly full mouth twisted upward. He was dressed like a noble, in fine fabrics and quality leather boots. A sword of the highest craftsmanship hung from his belt, the jewel set into the pommel glittering in the torchlight. But what struck me the most about him were his eyes: they were blood red and shimmering, their pupils slits, like a snake's, and they had flecks of black that caught the light and turned silver. He let out a sinister laugh that echoed wildly and I heard myself scream, dropping the torch to be snuffed out against the floor..._

 

* * *

 

It was a whole week until Brom and Eragon finally got what they were looking for. I found out that Eragon had learned to read in this time so that he could be of some use in deciphering the records. Well it was about time! I'd been trying to teach him to read since we were children, and he'd never taken an interest before. Now all of a sudden that it was useful to know how to read, he took an interest? Unbelievable…

And the night they were set to break into the records room, I was a nervous wreck. I should be there to help! I can read better than Eragon can! What if they're attacked and I don't know it? How will I be able to get into the city and save them?!

' _Tabatha!'_ Saphira barked, sensing my distress. ' _They are going to be fine. Brom knows what he's doing.'_

' _Let us hope so,'_ I said sourly, crossing my arms over my chest and continuing to pace back and forth along the edge of the cliff face. After a while of this, I resigned to just sit cross-legged, the sword Brom had given me resting in my lap, and wait for any word.

The night passed slowly, and still no word came. Saphira stood next to me on the edge of the cliff, a sentinel over all of the valley, keeping a constant vigil. When the first rays of dawn appeared, I began to grow even more nervous.

Another hour passed.

Two…

Three…

' _They're coming!'_ Saphira finally said. Quickly, I jumped up and into her saddle. She vaulted off the cliff and soared down towards the ground, trees and rocks racing upward to meet us at an alarming rate. For a moment, I thought that she would crash into a particularly large branch of a tree, but she angled her wings at the last moment and veered away to safety. It was an exhilarating experience to ride a dragon, even if she wasn't mine.

We landed near the road and I instantly jumped off Saphira's back, grimacing at the hard feel of the ground as my feet met it. "Did you get it? Where are we going next?" I asked eagerly, my hands shaking slightly.

"Yes, and Dras-Leona," Brom said triumphantly. Good, _now_ we're getting somewhere. Eragon climbed onto Saphira's back and I bounded over to Cadoc, unable to contain my excitement. "We should keep moving. Dras-Leona is at least two weeks ride from here."

"Then let's not waste anymore time, shall we?" I said, spurring Cadoc forward. Brom followed, laughing heartily.

We made camp that night in a little wooded area just off the road. I went off to gather firewood while Eragon went off to do…only the gods knew what. I picked up the large branches off the ground and quickly returned to camp, only to find Eragon there, cradling his right arm, a look of excruciating pain on his face.

"What happened to you?" I asked, dropping the wood at my feet. He quickly glared at me.

"I broke it," he growled.

"Come on, we have to get moving," Brom said in exasperation, mounting Snowfire.

"What? Why?" I asked, confused.

"Urgals," Eragon spat. Well that explains his broken arm. I gathered up my things and mounted Cadoc as Eragon and Saphira flew off into the night sky.

Brom and I rode hard, pushing the horses to their limits. Cadoc was breathing heavily beneath me, and he'd broken out in a sweat. I patted him on the arm and sent reassuring thoughts to his mind, willing him to keep going. He seemed to understand, for he picked up his speed. The sounds of the Urgal horde could faintly be heard coming through the night air and that was prompting enough. We rode on in silence until I felt something jolt in my mind. What was that? Apparently, Brom felt it too, for he pulled Snowfire to a dead stop.

"Did you feel that?" I asked. Brom merely nodded and rolled his eyes.

"Eragon!" he groaned, turning Snowfire around as I quickly followed. When we reached Saphira, the Urgals were fleeing in the opposite direction and Eragon lay unconscious on the ground. What has he done now?

"Saphira," Brom snapped, "carry him and follow me." Saphira picked Eragon up in her mighty talons and took flight once more, following us further into the woods. Brom finally stopped at a large clearing. Gingerly, Saphira set Eragon down, taking care not to crush him. He looked so frail in this state. Brom quickly fashioned a makeshift splint onto Eragon's arm and then rubbed his temple in a frustrated manner.

"What happened to him?" I asked, gazing at his unconscious form.

"He nearly died!" the old man snapped irritably.

"Don't yell at me! Yell at _him_ when he wakes up!" I protested hotly. I was _not_ going to put up with this, especially after all the horse manure that Brom had put me through these past two weeks.

He grumbled something that sounded like "I'm sorry" and busied himself with making a fire. When he was finished, I sat across from him. This is my chance! I've got to do it now!

"Look Brom," I said nervously, "I know that now may not be the best time, but if the only thing holding you back was the fact that Eragon might hear, then now is as good a time as ever. He's knocked out cold. I can't wait any longer. I need to know what you're holding back." I breathed a sigh of relief. I'm glad that's over! But I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that the worst was yet to come.

Brom sighed and looked up at me, the fire glinting in his sad eyes. "I have long feared that this day would come," he said, his voice dark and grave. "But you must know if you are to survive this. Before I begin, you must promise that you will hold all of your questions until I am finished and let me speak. Agreed?"

"I promise," I said quickly. Here we go.

"Many years ago," he began, "there was a young woman, slightly older than you are now. Her name was Adelaide. She was a very powerful witch, but she did not work for the forces of evil. She was good and kind to all seeking her help. Anyone that needed healing, she would aid to the best of her ability. And her abilities were great indeed. She could cure any kind of sickness, from a common cold to a woman's infertility. She was truly gifted. Adelaide lived in Carvahall.

"On the morning of her nineteenth birthday, a mysterious stranger came into town. This stranger observed her from afar and took a liking to her, though she was wary of him at first, as villagers are wont to do when a stranger comes into their community. When they finally met, Adelaide came to find that she liked him after all, despite what her family and neighbors said, and they had many things in common. 'He'll bring you nothing but trouble,' they warned. But she paid them no mind. The stranger-Cain, he called himself-was charming and witty, and handsome. He treated her with kindness and marveled at her incredible powers. They spent each day with each other, teaching one another about their different cultures and lifestyles. Where Adelaide had been reared in the country, Cain had lived his entire life in the great city of Dras-Leona. He filled her head with tales of great cities and their wonders, and all of the opportunities those cities would afford someone with her particular talents..." I wasn't really sure what any of this had to do with me, but I was sure that Brom was going somewhere with it.

"The stranger," he continued slowly, "persuaded Adelaide to run away with him to Uru'baen, another of the great cities, where they could start a new life together. They were married in secret, and lived happily for quite some time. And then, Adelaide discovered that she was pregnant.

"At first, she was overjoyed, and so was her husband, but then, Adelaide began to notice him changing. He began to speak of frightening things that she didn't understand and he grew suspicious of nearly everyone. Cain believed they were being watched at all times, and that the forces of evil were plotting to take their baby away. He told her that he needed to take the baby away somewhere safe, for its own protection, and hide it amongst people that could be trusted. She began to fear for the life of her unborn child.

"When the baby was finally born, she decided that she would run away with her new daughter and escape the ravings of her husband, whom she'd grown to fear. She tried to run from him, but he discovered her plans in a letter that was intercepted by one of his men. He sent out his servants and minions after her, his intentions clear.

"Knowing she was going to die, Adelaide made one final, desperate attempt to save her daughter's life. She gave the baby to me, and asked that I take her somewhere safe, where the father would never find her. Adelaide was the daughter of an old friend, and from Carvahall, besides, so I agreed to take the child. She disappeared into the night after giving the baby one final kiss and a blessing, and I never saw her again.

"I delivered you, Tabatha, safely to Carvahall and left you in the care of Horst and Elain, knowing they would raise you for their sister. By that time, unbeknownst to your mother, your father had been in power for many years. Somehow, he'd managed to keep his true identity hidden from her the entire time." I couldn't believe what I was hearing…It can't be true! Brom caught my look of desolation and despair and sadness filled his eyes. "I'm sorry, but it is true. Tabatha, your father...is the king...Galbatorix."


	10. The Secret Keeper

"No," I whispered hoarsely, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. "It can't be. It isn't true!" Brom only gazed at me sadly, hanging his head.

"I'm sorry, Tabatha. But it is true. Galbatorix used your mother to exploit her powers, in order to get to you. He knew that the blood of a Rider mixed with that of your mother's would produce a child with not only a witch's power, but also that of a Rider." I could feel hot, salty tears rolling down my cheeks. They felt as though they were burning tracks into my skin. "That is why you heal so quickly; because of your mother. You converse so easily with Saphira because of your father. And that is why he has been hunting for you. I suppose he never thought you'd be hiding right where he'd found your mother; right under his nose."

"So he just wants to use me? Like he did my mother!" I spat angrily, feeling a mounting pressure at the base of my skull.

"Yes, I'm afraid so. And that is why it is of the utmost importance that you remain hidden from the soldiers," Brom said. "If they were to find you and take you to Galbatorix... I don't want to think about what would happen, or what he would do. Your father is an evil man, Tabatha, and I don't say that lightly. I have known very few men in my time that are truly wicked, but he is one of them. But do not, for one moment, think that makes you anything like him. Your mother was good and kind, and she sacrificed herself to save you. A child brought up with such love could never turn out to be like that monster."

I couldn't find any words to say, the tears just kept flowing, and I jumped up suddenly, thoughts whirling around in my head wildly. Without a word, I turned and left Brom sitting there by the fire.

This can't be! The most evil man in the world is my father! I didn't want to believe it; with every fiber of my being I wanted to believe that it wasn't true. But I knew that it was. Deep down in my heart, I knew that Brom had spoken the truth. I fell to my knees in the clearing where I had stopped, sobbing uncontrollably into my hands. The pressure at the back of my head was growing stronger, beginning to throb with a dull pain.

Hold on a moment... If Galbatorix is my father, and he's the king, then that would make me... a princess! What more can I have thrust upon me in one day! It was strange to think of myself as royalty when all I'd ever known was my simple life in Carvahall. It was actually quite humorous. Princesses were supposed to be beautiful and delicate and clean, and I was a rough-and-tumble tomboy always getting dirt and scrapes and bruises all over me. I liked to wear pants, and pick fights, and play in the mud. How could I ever be a princess? And to think that Brom had known this entire time... He must have found that quite ironic. But what of Eragon? How am I ever supposed to face him now?

If he knew that his sworn enemy was my father, what would he think? Would he remain my friend? Or will he hate me for the rest of my miserable life? I'm not like him though! I could never be like that monster of a man... The best thing to do would be to keep it from him. But Saphira knows...

_'Saphira?'_ I called out with my mind, searching for her.

_'I'm here, Tabby,'_ she replied softly, employing my nickname. Her rich voice was full of sympathy and sadness. ' _I am sorry. What I saw of him from my egg, I knew that he was truly vile. A horrid man. But you, Tabatha, are not like him. Don't worry about that…'_

_'You will keep this from Eragon, won't you?'_ I asked timidly.

_'Of course. It is not my place to say. When you are ready, you must tell him yourself,'_ she said. I sighed heavily in momentary relief. But that relief was fleeting and disappeared quickly. How was I going to keep this from Eragon? We used to tell each other everything, but now…

_'I don't know if I can, Saphira. What if he hates me?'_

_'He will not hate you,'_ she assured me. _'I will make sure of it. Eragon will understand.'_

_'Thank you, Saphira, for being so understanding. You truly are a great dragon.'_ I withdrew contact then and surveyed my surroundings. I was kneeling by a winding stream that babbled softly as it flowed over the river rock. I watched the water for a while, getting lost in the peace that it brought me. My breathing slowed and I felt a cool breeze ruffling my hair, shifting it around my shoulders. Staring down at my hands, I noticed how dirty they were and plunged them underneath the icy water, enjoying the cold shock that came with it. It made me feel alive again, and I could think clearly once more. There was a large boulder situated at a bend in the stream, and I crawled over to lean my back against it.

My eyes fluttered closed and I listened to the sounds of the forest for a while. The stream gurgled close by, and an owl hooted from where it was perched on a branch. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled at the slivered moon, its cry long and mournful, as though it were weeping for the loss of a loved one. Some kind of creature—I couldn't tell what—padded quietly through the trees on the other side of the stream, stalking its prey. The dying leaves on the trees rattled together in the breeze, like dry bones. A twig snapped underfoot.

I jumped up in alarm, looking around wildly, my sword drawn and gleaming silver in the moonlight. It was probably just the animal I'd heard a moment ago, but I had the strange feeling that I was being watched my something...or someone. Gazing through the darkness of the forest, I realized that the paltry light from the crescent moon wasn't enough to see hardly ten feet in front of me, so I knew that they couldn't see me either. And then, I thought I could just make out a person's figure between two trees. That's when I ran.

I raced through the trees, dodging low-hanging branches and tree trunks. It seemed like forever before I got back to our encampment. Brom snapped his head up at my arrival and I saw that he was mounting Saphira.

"Where are you going?" I asked, breathless.

"To take care of those Urgals. I don't know when we will return, but I need you to stay here and keep an eye on him, in case he wakes up," Brom replied, pointing angrily at Eragon where he was lying on his bedroll. I nodded and they flew off into the night.

I didn't really relish in the fact that I had to stay here by myself to watch over Eragon in his helpless state with someone lurking out in the woods, but I didn't really have any other choice, did I? Settling down by the fire, I placed a hand on my sword and kept a constant vigil all through the night. That unsettling feeling I'd gotten in the clearing remained with me as the first rays of dawn peeked over the horizon…

 

* * *

 

The next day passed by slowly, but it was welcome. I enjoyed being alone to collect my thoughts, especially after what Brom had told me last night. I cleared my head by sparring with invisible enemies. Brom had been teaching me everything he knew since I was a small child, and now I knew why. I would need these skills to be able to defend myself against my father. Brom may have been an old man, but he was skilled in the art of swordplay. I'd only bested him on one occasion, and that was purely by blind luck alone.

My hand-and-a-half sword sliced gracefully through the air in a wide arc, cutting through the sinew and bone of the invisible enemies surrounding me. They fell to the ruthless edge of my blade, one after the other. I could see them clearly in my mind's eye, all of them carrying the faces of hideous demons. I lopped off the head of one and quickly twirled to parry the blow of another. Its sword glanced off of my own and I stabbed it right through the belly. It felt good.

I stopped after another half hour, the sweat rolling down my face and my breathing labored. I needed to keep practicing, or I would lose my skill. Eragon was fine to spar with, but he knew so little, I was more teaching him than practicing with him. That's why I'd let Brom take over his teaching. I was far too impatient for that. Taking a long draught from my waterskin, I plopped down in the dead grass and glanced over at Eragon's still-unconscious form. He was breathing peacefully, his chest rising and falling at even intervals.

I didn't know how I would act around him now, and whether he would figure out my secret, but I was certainly dreading it. Never in my wildest dreams did I think that I would hate to be around my best friend. But Galbatorix ruined all of that. I sighed heavily and took another drink, drowning in my own thoughts.

 

* * *

 

Finally, Eragon woke up. I was ready to give him a mouthful for being such an idiot, but at the same time, I was dreading speaking to him. He lifted himself off the ground slowly, groaning and rubbing the side of his head.

"Morning," I called over to him. He looked over at me groggily, blinking his eyes at the harsh light of day.

"What happened?" he asked wearily. I debated what to say for a while.

"It's not my place to say," I finally decided. "I'll let Brom chew you out later."

"Wonderful," he mumbled, staggering to his feet. He stumbled around for a while and then finally plopped down beside me. "Why are you so sweaty?"

"Just sparring with myself," I muttered. He clamped his mouth shut, as though he was going to say something but thought better of it and held his tongue. We sat for a moment longer in awkward silence before I could stand it no longer. "I'll be back," I said, bouncing to my feet.

"Where are you going?" he asked, his voice slurring and confused.

"For a walk!" I snapped angrily, stalking off into the trees. I slapped a branch aside and recoiled as it came back to slice me across the cheek. I put a hand up to my face and drew back to see a thin line of blood. What more can go wrong today?!

 

* * *

 

When I returned, Brom was yelling angrily at Eragon about the dangers of magic and how irresponsible he had been. Eragon just stood there with his head bowed, like a beaten dog. I could see a slow blush creeping into his cheeks and knew that he was incredibly embarrassed. Saphira stood stoically behind him, staring straight ahead. When Brom finally fell silent, I was already packed and ready to go. Brom glanced over at me quizzically where I stood leaning against Cadoc's flanks.

"Are we ready?" I asked exasperatedly, causing the horse to shift nervously. Brom only sighed in slight annoyance and tightened his mouth into a thin line.

"Yes, yes," Brom replied impatiently. "Will your arm be alright while we travel?" Eragon merely nodded. He mounted Cadoc, with some help from me, and I climbed up into the saddle behind him, my body going rigid. He spurred the horse forward and we took off towards Dras-Leona. I felt slightly strange, like there was an invisible wall between us, a wall of secrets. And I had to wonder, does he feel it too?


	11. Stranger

I could smell Dras-Leona from miles away. That was another sense that seemed to be keener than anyone else's: my sense of smell. The odor that wafted across the air was a mixture of rotting dung and the putrid odor of decaying corpses. It took everything within me not to vomit, and for the first time, I was glad I wouldn't be tagging along.

"Good luck," I called sarcastically as Saphira and I parted from Brom and Eragon. We'd all decided that it still wasn't safe for me to go into the city. They both waved half-heartedly and turned to the road that led into the city, while Saphira and I found a place to lay low. The little wooded area hid us well from the busy thoroughfare that led into the bustling city, but it did absolutely nothing for the smell. As I sat at the makeshift campsite, I couldn't help but stare in awe and wonder at the daunting edifice of black stone that lay just outside the city walls: Helgrind, Brom had called it. The sheer face of the rock spiraled at the top into three gigantic peaks. Its twisting formations held me transfixed for a while.

_'It's amazing,'_ I said to Saphira quietly as the light began to fade from the sky.

_'It reeks of evil,'_ she snorted, letting out a low growl. _'That place is an altar of dark magic. I can feel it.'_

_'Could it be where the Ra'zac are hiding?'_ I asked. She let out another deep, guttural growl before replying.

_'It's very possible, but we can't be sure,_ ' she replied. I couldn't help but be convinced that I was right though. There was something hauntingly beautiful about the towering structure, but also something very evil. "What is it that captivates me so?" I whispered aloud to myself.

 

* * *

 

I was right, of course. The Ra'zac did have their headquarters at Helgrind. But the manner in which I discovered this was by no means pleasant.

_'Tabatha!'_ Saphira screamed inside my head _. 'Quickly, we must go! Brom and Eragon are in trouble!'_ I made no argument and quickly jumped into the saddle upon her back. She vaulted into the air and sped in the direction of the city. I knew it was dangerous to be flying so close to the metropolis, but we needed to reach them, and fast.

We landed in a clearing on the other side of the road and waited for the two men. Not five minutes later, they came thundering and crashing through the trees. "What's going on?" I exclaimed.

"No time to explain," Brom replied hastily, trying to catch his breath. "We have to keep moving. Quickly, trade places." I jumped off Saphira's back and climbed into Cadoc's saddle. Brom and I spurred the horses into a gallop and Eragon and Saphira trailed quickly behind us. When we reached the main road, I glanced behind and saw a few garrisons of Imperial soldiers racing after us. What has Eragon done this time?

 

* * *

 

Night had fallen and the soldiers had disappeared long ago before we stopped and made camp in a small grove behind a few large boulders. "What happened back there?" I asked after the fire had been made. Eragon was standing straight up, his eyes alert and shifting nervously.

"The Ra'zac found me. I don't know how," he finally said. Silently, I cursed our bad luck. "We should get moving again soon, though. Something doesn't feel right." Brom nodded somberly, gazing into the fire, as though it could answer all of the questions I could tell were swimming around in his head.

"Where will we go?" I asked, looking between the two of them.

"I don't know," Brom mumbled, his eyes still downcast.

Before I could say anything else, a sharp whistling sound cut through the quiet night air. I instinctively ducked, but Brom was too slow. I watched in horror as he dropped to the ground, blood streaming down his face from the wound to his head. The old man cried out in pain, and I tried to reach for him, but was hit on the side of the head by some kind of projectile. A trickle of blood traced a path down the side of my face, and I flung myself prostrate on the ground. Saphira was roaring, her sharp fangs bared, and Eragon was pulling his sword, its blade seeming to be aflame in the light of the campfire. Everything was happening so quickly, and my mind was racing to try and keep up with the action. Shadows danced around the makeshift campsite, but I couldn't avoid them for long. A sharp pain, worse than before, exploded at the back of my head, and my vision went dark...

 

* * *

 

I roused to the sound of low hissing, like a snake, a sound I knew instantly. My head throbbed where I'd been hit, and I tried to push the pain aside to focus on the words I could barely make out through the hissing.

"And what about thissss one? Ssshe isss the one the king hasss been looking for," the voice said, somewhere behind me.

Another, deeper voice hissed back, "Yesss... we will deliver her to the king at onccce. He will be mossst pleasssed." I knew that the voices belonged to the Ra'zac, but I couldn't see them. They'd bound my arms and legs, and were at my back. If I tried to turn over now, who knows what they would do to me?

Obviously, an attack was out of the question, but maybe... Damn them! They had Saphira tied down, her snout clamped tightly shut with corded ropes. I stole a look over at Eragon and realized he was awake, staring right at me. I shook my head as subtly as possible, trying to tell him not to speak, but it was in vain. He grunted loudly, the idiot, trying to move closer to Saphira's side. The Ra'zac were upon us immediately. Damn his stupidity!

"Ah, the young Rider hasss awoken," one of the Ra'zac, the smaller of the two, hissed.

"Saphira," Eragon groaned, craning his neck to look at her. She growled deep in her throat, shifting restlessly beneath her restraints. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Brom moving slightly. They must have deemed him non-threatening, for Brom wasn't bound up. My mind was racing a mile a minute, trying to find some way out of this situation. As I tried to think of something, anything, my vision began to go fuzzy and my hearing muffled. Had they drugged me? I tried to focus on them, but the image kept going in and out. The two Ra'zac were looming over Eragon, and I could tell that they were asking him questions, though the drugs made it impossible to understand them.

_What am I going to do?_

I pulled weakly against my restraints, but they had bound me too tightly. My ankles and calves were bound too tightly as well. I couldn't see any feasible way out of this, but when I raised my head, I saw one of the Ra'zac going over to where Brom lay on the ground. He was standing over him, holding a dagger that dripped with some kind of liquid. He hissed menacingly as he bent down, but then an arrow suddenly ripped through his shoulder. The creature screeched in pain, the injured arm falling limply to his side. Suddenly, arrows were raining down on the Ra'zac as they screeched and ran. Eragon looked about wildly, trying to find the source of the attack, just as I was, but the surroundings of the camp were too dark to see anything.

Brom was getting to his knees, crawling slowly over to Eragon. I began to wriggle wildly, trying to find some way to break free. My breath came faster as my chest rose and fell rapidly. The drugs were beginning to take their effect. I wouldn't be of much use for much longer. The Ra'zac were on the run, trying to dodge the arrows, but another one hit the larger Ra'zac in the side, dragging an inhuman scream out of him. The smaller one turned, the wicked dagger still held in his hands, and stared menacingly at Eragon where he lay helplessly on the ground.

Time seemed to slow to a creeping halt as I watched in horror. The Ra'zac drew back his arm, the dagger's point angled at Eragon. His arm propelled forward, letting the dagger loose and it flew through the air, tumbling end over end. Brom's eyes widened and he seemed to act out of pure instinct, throwing himself forward. I couldn't help the scream that ripped through my throat as the dagger buried itself in Brom's stomach, missing its intended target. The edges of my vision were going red and the fogginess in my head was beginning to take its toll. Eragon was yelling too as arrows continued to whistle through the darkness. Brom lay on the ground, completely still, hands clutching his stomach. The last thing I saw before the drugs washed over me completely was Brom's eyes staring back at me, full of sorrow and regret.

 

* * *

 

Everything was quiet in the clearing when I awoke again, feeling the pain at the back of my head anew. I heard slight rustlings coming from behind me, near the fire. Were the Ra'zac returned? My muscles were stiff from being bound for so long, and it hurt to move. Something metallic dropped on the hard ground behind me and I suddenly went stiff, ready to respond any way that I had to. Who could this be?

I glimpsed Eragon lying unconscious, Brom still on the ground in front of him. Suddenly, Saphira landed behind the two of them, free of her chains, and growling deeply.

_'Saphira!'_ I called out to her. _'Who is it?'_

_'I do not know,'_ she replied, her voice low and threatening.

_'Help me out of these bonds.'_ She shielded me from view, while still protecting Brom and Eragon, and sliced through the rope around my wrists with her sharp talon. I made quick work of the ropes around my legs and crept around to Saphira's side, peeking over the top of her scaly hide.

I glimpsed a young man, maybe two or three years older than myself and Eragon, rustling around in a pack at his feet. He laid a few things out on the ground and then stood, coming towards Saphira and me. I ducked behind her quickly as she tensed and snarled deeply, her sharp claws digging into the ground.

"Please," he said entreatingly, "I must attend to his wounds." She growled again, flicking her tail. Quickly, I rolled out from behind Saphira, dagger in hand, and landed in a crouching position in front of Brom. My hair hung down in front of my face, and I could feel the heat of my blood pumping wildly through my body. I'm sure I looked feral right now, but I didn't care. All I cared about was protecting Brom and Eragon.

"Who are you?" I growled, shifting my weight slightly to be able to pounce, if necessary. His hands extended towards me in a gesture of peace, his grey eyes wide in surprise at the sight of me.

"My name is Murtagh. I'm here to help," he replied quietly, his deep voice soothing. I felt a slight pressure in my skull and slammed closed the iron door to my mind Brom had helped me build. His expression faltered a bit, and I knew he was surprised that my fortifications were as strong as they were. That gave me a bit of satisfaction, but I kept my face stoic, staring him down menacingly.

"How did you find us?"

"I've been tracking the Ra'zac myself. Just a coincidence that I happened to be in the right place at the right time," he replied, eyeing me quizzically. There was something in his gaze that made me want to trust him, but if there was anything I'd learned over the past few weeks on this journey, it was that I couldn't trust anyone.

_'Saphira, what do you think?'_ I asked, never taking my eyes off this stranger.

_'I do not like this mysterious man. What reason would he have to track the Ra'zac? And his mind is strong. He may have been trained by a magician.'_ She let out a low hiss, angling her head downward. _'I don't know if we can trust him.'_

_'Nor do I,'_ I replied warily.

"Are you going to let me help him? Or continue conversing with the dragon?" he asked pointedly, his calm demeanor dissipating almost instantly and replaced with a sense of urgency. I was a bit taken aback, but my posture relaxed involuntarily. "If you don't let me help him, he will die." Slowly and reluctantly, I sheathed my dagger and put it back in my bootleg.

"Very well," I mumbled, standing up. Saphira moved aside as well, allowing him to pass but never taking her sapphire eyes off of him. As he walked past me to Brom's unconscious form, I noticed that he was at least a head, if not more, taller than me and half again over my size. His hair was dark, black like the feathers of a raven, and the features of his face were stern and serious. He bent down next to the old storyteller and placed his hands under his arms, lifting him slightly off the ground. He cocked his head over at me, throwing his dark hair out of his face.

"Can you help me? I don't want to drag him," he said. I went over and took Brom around the ankles and we carried him to where the young man had laid out his things by the fire. Brom's breathing was shallow, and he'd broken out in a sheen of sweat. There was a bowl with some kind of green paste, and rolls of bandages. The stranger, Murtagh, slowly peeled back Brom's shirt, taking care to move the fabric around the dagger hilt that still protruded from his stomach. I had to stifle a gasp when I saw the skin around his wounds was red and inflamed, oozing clear pus.

"This is a poisoned dagger," I whispered hoarsely. The young man handed me a thick branch that had been stripped of any bark.

"Put that in between his teeth, and hold his shoulders down," he instructed, never taking his eyes off the wound. He seemed to know what he was doing, so I didn't argue. I went around, getting behind Brom and worked the branch between his clenched jaws. I noticed the branch had teeth marks on it already, and I couldn't help but wonder just how many times the stranger had done something like this before. Brom groaned slightly when I finally got the branch situated and furrowed his eyebrows in pain. I pushed down on his shoulders slightly and looked up at the young man.

"He's waking up," I said in concern.

"Then I am sorry for what I am about to do," he replied. The man gripped the hilt of the dagger tightly and took a deep breath. "Hold him down tightly." I nodded slightly and took a deep breath myself. Quick as a flash of lightening, the stranger pulled the dagger free of Brom's body, flinging it aside. Brom tried to scream, but the branch muffled his sounds. The old man fought against me with surprising strength, but I was able to hold him down.

"Shh," I intoned soothingly. "There now, it's over." I wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a rag that had been lying with the other things. Brom whimpered softly and I saw tears of pain running down his weathered and lined cheeks. I'd never seen him this way before, and it broke my heart. As I continued to comfort him, Murtagh got to work spreading the green paste over his open wound. Brom flinched slightly at the contact, but he did not fight again. When the healing salve—for that's the only thing I could assume it was—had been spread, the young man wrapped the wound in clean bandages. Every time he lifted the old man to wrap the bandage around his waist, Brom grunted in pain, but I had to credit him how well he was holding up. I remembered how much pain I'd been in when I was wounded by the explosion at the farm, so I knew how badly he must be hurting.

When Murtagh was finished wrapping the wound and tied it off, he looked up at me, his eyes full of concern.

"Thank you," I said quietly. He nodded in response and began to put his instruments of healing back in his pack.

"You're right, the blade was poisoned. I don't know how much I can do for him. All we can do now is hope that he'll recover," he replied. "How did you know it was poisoned?"

"I have seen wounds like that before," I replied. "And the wounds were also dealt by the Ra'zac. I'd stake my life that the poison is Seithr oil." He contemplated this for a moment.

"If that's true, then I fear there's nothing we can do for him," he finally replied somberly. I didn't respond, because I knew he was right. I left the rag next to Brom and walked back over to Saphira's side. She was still staring intently at the young man who had rescued us, but she was laying down now, her body less tense than before.

_'I still don't know what to make of him,'_ I admitted, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning against her side, watching the young man pack the rest of his things up and start pulling out a bedroll.

_'Nor do I, but he helped Brom. I fear we have no choice but to trust him for now,'_ she replied quietly. I nodded in response and continued to watch the mysterious stranger.

He glanced over at me a few times as he set up a little hanging pot over the fire and poured in the ingredients for a thin rabbit stew. The firelight danced in his wolfish gray eyes, giving them a look of fierce intensity. I just stared back unflinchingly. I wasn't going to allow him to intimidate me in any way.

"Who are you?" he finally asked, keeping his eyes on the rabbit he'd just skinned. I held back my answer, inspecting his face carefully for any hint of what he might be thinking. But his face remained infuriatingly impassive. What if he was working for the Empire? No, he coulnd't be trusted with my name.

"No one of consequence," I muttered darkly. He only looked at me for a moment, searching my face as well. He didn't realize I could be just as impassive as him.

"No one of consequence? That seems highly unlikely. I don't know any girls of little consequence that travel around with a Dragon Rider," he responded.

"You know many Dragon Riders? Or girls, for that matter?" My sarcasm was coming out, but only because I was getting frustrated.

He laughed lightly, the sound a deep rumble coming from his chest. If I had known him better, I might have found it a comforting sound. "No, I suppose not. But I've told you who I am; the least you could do is give me the same courtesy." He spoke gently, but in a way that made me want to do what he said. Who was this man?

"You've told me your name, nothing more. I don't know anything about you, where you come from, why you were hunting the Ra'zac..." He wore an amused smirk on his face, which only served to make me angrier. "Let's just say I'm not feeling very generous today," I stated with finality. He shrugged slightly and turned his attention back to the rabbit.

"Very well," he said. "I don't expect you trust me right away. I just hope m 'lady will come to see that I'm here to help."

"Don't call me _'m 'lady'_ ," I spat venomously, causing Saphira to twitch behind me.

"Then what should I call you?"

"Do you never run out of questions!" I snapped, my voice echoing through the quiet night air. I didn't know why he was irritating me so, but I was quickly growing tired of it. He let out a short laugh and smirked again, flicking his gaze toward me.

"I guess I'm just curious," he said in a low voice, something in the way he said it causing my heart to drop down into my stomach. I could feel the blood rushing into my cheeks, and only hoped that the shadows from the fire hid my blushing. When he gathered that I wasn't going to respond, he turned back to the stew. It was then that I took a moment to study him without the discomfort of his gaze.

His dark hair reached down to his shoulders, falling in front of his face as he bent over the pot. I could still see his wolf-like eyes reflecting in the fire, their gaze intent on whatever he was doing. I couldn't help but think that they were always like that; intently studying whatever it was he set his mind to. There was something in the way he moved that spoke of nobility, but he had the appearance of one who spent a lot of time in the wild. The powerful muscles of his forearms rippled beneath his tanned skin, and they betrayed to me that he was a warrior. I noticed the tip of a sword sheath just visible behind his pack. I resolved I'd have to keep a close eye on him.

Sliding down Saphira's side, I sat cross-legged on the ground, one hand on my dagger that I'd dug out of my bootleg, the other resting on my leg. Murtagh continued to look at me periodically, but he didn't offer any further conversation. When the soup was done, he poured some into a bowl and brought it over to me.

"Thank you," I said quietly, taking the bowl with my free hand. He noticed the dagger in my right hand.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and I could tell that he refrained from saying _'m 'lady'_. "What reason would I have to?" I couldn't come up with an excuse, so I deflected the attention off myself.

"I'm protecting _him_ ," I said, jerking my head towards Eragon. "How can I be sure you aren't working for Galbatorix and the Empire?"

"Well you can't, really. All I can do is give you my word that I hate the Empire with a passion, and I'd do anything to see its downfall." He spoke with an intensity I'd never heard or seen before, and, although I hated to admit it, I knew he wasn't lying. I took a sip of the stew and it was quite good. Clearly, he had some survival skills. But where had he learned them? Who was this noble warrior, and what was he up to?


	12. An Enemy and An Ally

When Eragon finally awoke from his drugged stupor, he was certainly confused by the stranger, but he didn't seem to have a problem with him. He thanked him for saving our lives, and then suddenly, within five minutes, they were talking like they'd been friends all their lives. It was ridiculous! Did he not think that he might be an agent of the Empire? How stupid could he be...?

While they talked by the fire, Saphira and I stood on the outskirts of the camp, sulking and conversing with one another about the stranger. The two of them kept glancing over at me.

"I don't think your girlfriend likes me very much," Murtagh whispered. I saw Eragon's face blush a deep shade of red and his mouth pop open, as though he were searching for the words to respond. My own face grew hot with anger.

"We are not together!" I screamed angrily, picking up a stick off the ground and lobbing it at him. A triumphant smile spread across my face as it struck his upraised arm, right on the elbow.

"Ow!" he protested, rubbing the spot where I'd hit him. "Gods above, I didn't think she would hear me." I heard that too, and Eragon only smirked.

"She has incredible hearing. Don't expect to keep any secrets around here." I couldn't help balking at that statement, and I noticed Murtagh flinch a bit. What was that about? Eragon didn't know just how wrong he was.

"I'll keep that in mind," Murtagh muttered.

"And she's right, we aren't together," Eragon said quietly. "We've been best friends since we were children. She found out about Saphira when she was hiding at my uncle's farm, and I knew I could always use the extra help."

"And why exactly were you hiding?" he asked in my direction. I wanted to strangle Eragon right then and there, but I held back.

"We need to keep moving," I said, blatantly dodging the question and walking over to where my pack lay near the horses.

"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to move him in his present condition," Murtagh argued, standing up.

"We can't take the chance of the soldiers catching up to us," I growled, throwing my pack over my shoulder. "Brom would want it that way, were he conscious." The old man had fallen back into a fevered sleep after Murtagh had wrapped his wound. The stranger and I shot daggers with our eyes at one another until Eragon stepped in.

"Don't argue," he pleaded. "She's right. We have to keep moving." Murtagh heaved an irritated sigh and I _harrumphed_ in his general direction. I was starting to dislike him greatly.

Eragon came over as I tightened the straps on Cadoc's saddle, preparing to leave. "I'm going to have to ride Saphira if we want to keep up a good pace. Please, don't kill each other while I'm gone," he said under his breath. I whipped my head around to stare at him.

"Do you even know the slightest thing about him, Eragon?" I asked in a hushed whisper, glancing over his shoulder to where Murtagh was gathering his things. "He is a stranger, yet you put such faith in him, as if you were the best of friends. For all we know, he could be an agent of the Empire, sent here to bring you to Galbatorix." He sighed heavily, looking back over his shoulder. Murtagh had stopped to stare at us, but when he noticed us looking, went back to looking busy.

"Tabby," he whispered, turning back to me. "You need to listen to me on this one: we can trust him." His tone was pleading, and I just sighed.

"You'd better hope that you're right. If you're not, it'll mean our heads," I growled. He laughed at me in that boyish way of his.

"And I will accept full responsibility," he replied, walking away towards Saphira. I'm sure she was telling him the same thing I just had. I rolled my eyes and climbed up into the saddle. Murtagh finished tying Brom into Snowfire's saddle so he wouldn't move around too much, and then mounted his own horse. The warhorse was a beautiful animal, dappled gray with strong muscles and a thick neck. A horse like that would have cost three times what Brom paid for Snowfire.

"That's a beautiful horse," I remarked coyly, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction. His face remained as impassive as ever though, and he simply thanked me. Fine, if that's how it's going to be, two can play at that game.

Murtagh had tied Snowfire's reins to that of his own horse and he spurred the stallion forward. I followed closely behind as Saphira raised into the night sky, disappearing amongst the stars. The tension between us remained thick in the air throughout the ride. Never once did I chance a look over at my riding companion. This was going to be a _very_ long trip.

 

* * *

 

The dawn had peeked up over the horizon, and we only stopped momentarily to let the horses drink. Saphira flew high overhead, only visible for moments at a time as she weaved in and out of the clouds. Jealousy overwhelmed me, and I wished more than anything I could be up there with them, instead of down here on the ground with _him_.

Murtagh drank greedily from his waterskin, wiping his mouth and the back of his sleeve. He caught me staring at him, and I quickly looked away. I didn't know what it was, but I felt that I had to keep an eye on this one, lest he stab me in the back while I wasn't looking.

"You still don't trust me," he stated, staring at me hard with his unflinching gaze.

"No, I don't. You saved our lives, and I'm grateful for that, but I can't help but think you have some other motives driving your actions." His face remained calm, so I couldn't tell what he was thinking, and it was infuriating.

"Come on, let's keep moving," he said gruffly, spurring his horse forward with a cry of _hiya!_ , Snowfire following close behind him.

 

* * *

 

We made camp, as the sun was sinking low in the horizon, on a limestone cave. The horses had a hard time getting over the rocky terrain, but they finally made it. Nestled in the side of the cliff was a deep cave. I couldn't think what had once lived here, but I knew something had, as the bones of tiny animals were scattered everywhere. Thankfully though, the cave was now uninhabited, and it would serve as a safe hiding spot for the night. We all figured the soldiers had now returned to their posts in the city, and we were free of them.

It was dark and cool inside the cave, and Murtagh started a fire to light our way. Eragon and I undid the ropes binding Brom to the saddle and gingerly laid him out on a blanket. He was still unconscious, and his fever hadn't broken.

"Do you think he'll be alright?" Eragon asked as we sat by the old man.

I chewed on my lip nervously before answering. "I really don't know," I lied, not having the heart to tell him the truth that both Murtagh and I knew. He tried to stifle a yawn, and I smirked at him as his eyes began to droop. "Get some rest, Eragon. I'll keep an eye on him." I patted him and the leg and he just nodded slowly, crawling beneath his blankets and muttering a soft goodnight. As he drifted off to sleep, I glanced over to the mouth of the cave and saw Murtagh striding towards me, his gait holding an air of arrogance. This mysterious man was really starting to get on my nerves. "What?" I snapped harshly.

"I just came to let you know that I'm going to find something for us to eat," he replied, his face taken aback at my harshness. Maybe I was being rude to him, but he was irritating me. I couldn't help it if my temper was running away with me.

"Fine," I grumbled sullenly. He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me quizzically, before suddenly kneeling down and staring me straight in the eyes, our faces mere inches apart. I jerked away from him, but I couldn't go very far without almost falling over. "What!" I snapped, trying to scoot away from him, but to no avail; he had me pinned against the wall of the cave.

"You really don't like me, do you?" he said, scrutinizing my face with his intense stare.

"What gave you your first clue?" I scoffed, still trying to scramble away. He just continued to gaze at me as I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Pray, tell me, _great lady_ , what have I done to offend you so?" The sarcasm was evident in his voice and it only made me angrier. I pushed him away roughly and scrambled to my feet, slipping around him so that his back was to the wall instead of mine.

"That is exactly why I do not like you, _noble sir_ ," I mocked, placing my hands on my hips. "I dislike your attitude. You're coarse and you're conceited, and I think this conversation has gone far enough. I don't trust you, and I know absolutely nothing about you."

"Well I don't even know your name because _you_ , in all your pig-headed stubbornness, refuse to give it to me. And yet I trust you not to slit my throat in my sleep," he retorted fiercely, eyes blazing in anger. I stared at him for a long moment, searching his face. Though I hated to admit it, even if was just to myself, he was right. Murtagh had trusted me thus far, and I hadn't even had the decency to tell him my name. What's happening to me? Aunt Elain would have been ashamed of the way I'd behaved towards him...

"Tabatha," I blurted out quietly. "My name is Tabatha." He exhaled heavily and stared at me in consternation.

"Now... that wasn't so hard, was it?" he said, one eyebrow cocked in a little show of triumph.

"Just go so we can eat before dawn," I snapped, tearing my gaze away before we ended up just staring at one another all night. He seemed to hesitate, but decided against whatever else he'd been about to say.

"Yes, _Your Highness_ ," he sneered. I knew that he was only trying to get a rise out of me, but I couldn't control the sudden anger that welled up inside. The anger and hatred was uncontrollable, and it was all directed at him.

"Don't you ever call me that again!" I seethed, making my voice as threatening as possible. His face took on a look of shock when he realized how fierce and real my ire was.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly, holding out his hands to try and calm me. "I didn't mean to offend you... really." I didn't know what to say. My anger had torn the words from my lips. He stared at me for another moment before turning and retreating out the mouth of the cave.

_'He doesn't know, Tabatha,'_ Saphira's voice cut through my thoughts _. 'I know you do not trust him, and I don't trust him completely either, but that's no reason to treat him the way that you just did.'_

_'Don't tell me you're on his side now too,'_ I complained, suddenly feeling very alone.

_'He saved our lives from the Ra'zac, Tabby. And he's helped Brom too, if only just to ease his suffering. Just give him a chance, perhaps?'_

_'Until he proves that he can be trusted, I don't see a reason to give him one,'_ I replied angrily, withdrawing contact from her mind. I was fully aware that Murtagh didn't have a clue about my true identity, but the truth about myself had left me with a shocking bitterness. That was the real reason I'd lashed out at Murtagh, not only because I didn't like him all that much, but because I hated the reminder of who—and what—I truly was. The only thing I wanted was to forget the truth, even if it was just for a little while.

 

* * *

 

Murtagh came back right as the sun was setting beyond the horizon, three rabbits in hand. At least he had proved he was a skilled hunter. He skinned the rabbits while I checked on Brom's wound. The inflammation had spread, now covering the entire lower half of his torso. The edges of his wound were turning black, and I couldn't help the pang of fear that shot through my chest. This wasn't good...

"How is he?" Murtagh called over, setting the last of the coneys onto a spit over the fire.

"Not good," I replied quietly, spreading a bit more of the green salve onto the wound. Murtagh had said it would help with the pain, and it seemed he was right. The old man hadn't woken since the night before. Gingerly, I replaced his bandage and came back over to the fire. "The infection is spreading rapidly."

"He doesn't have much longer," Murtagh mused, staring into the flames. I felt the tears brimming at my eyelids, but I managed to hold them at bay. It wouldn't do to let this stranger see me cry. I noticed him watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" I asked hastily, wiping the rim of my eyes with my sleeve. "It's just the smoke."

He simply nodded and turned back to the rabbits. Eragon awoke briefly to eat, but soon fell back into a deep slumber. I watched him for a moment, to make sure he was asleep, before turning back to Murtagh.

"Eragon is like my brother," I said slowly, watching his face. "I will do whatever it takes to protect him... Saphira as well. If you try anything-"

"When are you going to get it through your head that I want to help?" he snapped, whipping his head around to look at me.

"Perhaps if you told me why you hate the Empire..."

"Oh, that's rich coming from you," he scoffed, laughing bitterly. "Why don't you tell me why you were hiding at Eragon's farm, huh?" I fell silent and turned away. He was right: I was being a terrible hypocrite. I just didn't know what to make of this stranger. On the one hand, I still didn't know enough about him; not to be trusted; a possible enemy. But on the other hand, he hadn't shown anything to give me cause not to trust him, other than the fact that I didn't know him. And there was something in his wolfish eyes that held me captivated every time I looked into them.

Is it possible for someone to be an enemy and an ally at the same time?

* * *


	13. The Hands of the Gods

"Tabatha! Quickly! Wake up!" My eyes shot open as I was awoken from my deep sleep by the sound of Murtagh's voice. He sounded distressed, and it took me a moment to get over my grogginess and figure out why. I realized it was light outside, the sun shining in through the opening of the cave. And then I saw Brom. He was writhing in pain on the stone floor. Quickly as I could, I rushed to his side.

Eragon was already there, kneeling at his side. "What's going on?" I asked as I knelt beside him.

"I... I don't know," Eragon replied, his voice strained with duress. Suddenly, the old man stopped writhing so violently and looked up at Eragon, Murtagh, and me.

"Eragon," the old man wheezed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Fetch my wineskin." Eragon smiled fondly down at him.

"I don't know that now is the best time for a drink," he said.

"Just do as I say, boy!" His voice was more forceful this time and Eragon nodded slowly.

"Here, use mine," Murtagh offered, handing his own wineskin over.

"I've got the wine," Eragon said soothingly. The feeble old man didn't say anything for a moment. I'd never seen him like this before, and I could honestly say that I was terrified for him.

"Rub it into the palm of my right hand," he said, his voice quavering slightly.

"I don't..."

"Don't argue! Just do what I tell you!" Brom yelled, finding the strength to cut Eragon off. He did what Brom asked and rubbed the liquid into his palm. At first, nothing happened, but then I saw a sort of brown dye washing away from his skin to reveal... No, it can't be...

"Y-you're a Rider?" I spluttered out.

"I was," he replied quietly, the silver mark of the _gedwëy ignasia_ shining brightly on his palm. "My dragon was killed long ago by another Rider, Morzan. It was my fault." A dark look came over Murtagh's face as tears brimmed in Brom's ancient eyes. "Her name was Saphira. Don't make the same mistake that I did, Eragon. Guard Saphira at all costs, for you will find that life without her is hardly worth living at all."

"I will," Eragon said, choking back his own tears.

"Time is getting short," Brom continued, his voice returning to a whisper. "There is only one more thing I can give to you." Eragon leaned his ear close to Brom's face as he whispered something to him. It was then that I noticed Murtagh had retreated to the mouth of the cave, leaving the three of us. "Use them only in times of great need. Tabatha..." I took his hand up in my own, squeezing it gently.

"I'm here, Brom." I felt a tear rolling down my cheek. A thin smile cracked across his lips.

"You look so much like her," I barely heard him whisper. I knew that he meant my mother, Adelaide, and I wished we had more time. He beckoned me closer to him, and I bent down so that he could whisper something in my ear. "You are not your father, Tabatha, no matter what anyone else says. Never forget that. There is so much good inside of you. Use it well." He turned his head away from me and looked up at the roof of the cave, eyes glassing over. "And now, for the greatest adventure of all..."

 

* * *

 

The hours passed by slowly as Eragon and I sat with the dying man. His chest rose and fell shallowly, and his breathing was becoming more ragged. I could tell by the deadness in his eyes that although his body was still alive, his soul was long gone. Perhaps he had already been reunited with his beloved dragon. After a while, I would no longer sit there and watch him die. So, I did the only thing I could do: I ran. Pushing past Murtagh at the mouth of the cave, I ran out into the afternoon light, wishing only to escape. I felt him grab at the hem of my sleeve, but I pulled away too quickly, not even looking back at him. His eyes followed me as I disappeared around the other side of the cave, finding a route that led to the top of the cliff. It was there that I sat, and wept.

I couldn't control the guttural sobs that ripped from my throat and wracked my body, causing me to shake. They came of their own volition, and I was completely at their mercy. Why did it have to happen this way? Brom had been like another father to me all of these years, and then... he was just... gone. I felt as though I was a ship without a sail, aimlessly floating in a vast ocean of nothingness. Brom had carried the secret of my identity for so long, that without him, I didn't know what to do. Where would I go? What would I do? What purpose did my life hold now? When all of my tears were finally spent, I sat up on the edge of the cliff, my legs dangling perilously over the side. I stared up at the sky for a while; so long that the light of the sun faded and night took over.

Suddenly, I sensed a presence behind me... _Murtagh._

"Is he gone?" I asked slowly. Murtagh plopped down beside me, hanging his own long legs over the side as well, but I didn't look at him; I couldn't.

"He passed a quarter of an hour ago, and it's taken me twice that to find you. Eragon is worried sick..." I could feel his unrelenting gaze on me, but I still couldn't turn and face him; I only stared up at the stars, losing myself in the depth of the night sky. Perhaps it was a matter of pride, but I wanted to seem strong and brave. What would he think of me if he knew how badly I was hurting? "You know, Tabatha," he said quietly, his voice comforting, "it's alright to let people in and see what you're feeling. Sometimes, those people can be the ones to help."

Taking a deep breath, I found my resolve to look into his eyes. They glinted sharply in the moonlight, and I knew he was trying to convince me; to convince me that maybe, just maybe, he was trustworthy. "I don't deserve to be here, and he should still be alive," I murmured quietly, the words pouring out of my mouth before I could stop them.

"Why would you say that?" he questioned, one eyebrow slightly raised.

I just shook my head, unsure of how to respond. How could I, without telling him who I truly was? More tears—it seemed I still had some left—began to flow freely. Something had come over me this night to make me let myself go, and I allowed Murtagh to place a hesitant arm around my shoulders. I let myself not be openly ashamed for crying into his chest. For this instant, I'd become like my old self, before I'd known the truth of this world and who I was. "Don't say that," he whispered softly. "He lived a very long and fruitful life. It was his time to go. He wouldn't want you to give up like this, would he?" I shook my head slightly as he stroked my hair with a rough hand.

For an unfathomable amount of time, I just sat there and cried, my tears falling onto the roughspun cloth of Murtagh's shirt. It felt good to have someone hold me while I unleashed my emotions, even if it was Murtagh... _Wait, what am I doing?_

In a sudden burst of speed, I jerked out of his hold and clambered to my feet. In my haste, I nearly lost my balance, and teetered backwards over the edge of the cliff. Murtagh sprang to his feet and took hold of my wrist with one hand while the other wrapped around my waist, drawing me into his chest and away from the edge. We stood like that for a moment, my hands splayed out on the wide expanse of his chest and his arm around me, while I caught my breath and waited for my heart to stop racing.

"Are you alright?" he asked firmly, his voice full of some emotion that I couldn't quite place...

"I... I'm sorry. I-I have to go," I stuttered, pulling away from him and his hard stare. For a moment, I thought I glimpsed a flash of something in his eyes, but I paid it no mind. As I turned to walk back down the side of the cliff, I stopped when I heard him speak.

"You are so _stubborn_ , Tabatha," he whispered. I stopped dead in my tracks and slowly turned back around.

Murtagh's back was facing me and it looked like his head was hanging low over his chest. What could he have meant by that? Part of me wanted to march back over there and wring and answer out of him, but the other part of me fought vehemently against it... No. I couldn't face him now; not after I'd made such a spectacle of myself.

Slowly, I turned again and walked down the path. Perhaps I was too stubborn to show my true self to anyone, but that's just the way that I am. I didn't like to let people see what I'm truly feeling; it made me feel vulnerable. I'd always been so tough—putting barriers up around my heart to dispel the teasing I'd always received from Albriech and Baldor, and even Eragon and Roran—but what had that done to me? And now that I had to constantly hide my true identity from the world, I feared those barriers would only become stronger. I wasn't even my true self around Eragon, and he was my best friend. I was beginning to become someone I didn't even know.

It was then that I realized how far I had strayed from the cliff and our encampment. The limestone structure was a good hundred yards away. It's amazing how engrossed I can become in myself sometimes. When I glanced at the top of the cliff, the dark shape I'd expected to see was not there... _Murtagh was gone_.

 

* * *

 

Eragon was silent the next day. He barely said a word to me at all. When he stopped in front of the still body of the old Rider, I came up next to him. "What are we going to do with him, Eragon?" I asked.

"We're going to bury him," he replied somberly.

"How are you going to do that?" Murtagh said. "The land around here is solid limestone for miles." Without a word, Eragon hoisted the old man over his shoulders and out of the mouth of the cave. Murtagh glanced over at me for a moment, but I quickly averted my eyes, following behind Eragon.

When we got to the top of the cliff, Eragon set Brom's lifeless body down and began speaking in the Ancient Language. The earth moved and shifted underneath him, and he created a perfect hollowed out shell for Brom. Murtagh helped him lift the old man and place him inside, then Eragon spoke again and the rock settled over top of him, forming a perfectly round hill of stone. Suddenly, Saphira craned her graceful neck forward, and gently touched the edge of her snout to the rock. The stone shimmered and rippled for a few moments, and finally settled into a perfectly cut, diamond tomb. It sparkled brilliantly in the light of the sun, nearly blinding all of us. Through the clear gemstone, Brom's face looked peaceful, like he was simply sleeping.

"That's amazing," I whispered, gazing up at Saphira in awe.

"Now time cannot ravage his body," Eragon said stoically. I stared a moment longer at his face, forever frozen in time.

"He was so full of life and vigor," I mused quietly. "It's hard to imagine that he was taken from us so quickly. It only goes to show that the gods hold all the cards in the game of life. And we must take whatever lot they deal us." I turned to look at Eragon, his face set as hard as the diamond tomb in front of him.

"I won't take what they give me anymore," he growled. "This is my life, and I'm going to create my own destiny." He turned to me, his eyes searching my face. "What say you?"

I gave him a small smile. "To the very end, remember?" I said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I will join you," Murtagh interjected, stepping towards us.

"I do not ask you to come, Murtagh. You've already done so much for us," Eragon said. I avoided making any eye contact with him, but I felt a knot tightening in my chest.

"I know, but I want to come. It's not every day that you meet a Rider," he replied, a crooked little grin spreading across his face. A pang went through my chest, chills spreading across my skin.

"Very well," Eragon replied, nodding firmly. "We better get moving then. We've got a long journey ahead of us." They nodded to one another and made towards the path that led back to the ground.

I followed quickly after them, taking care not to stumble on the loose rocks. "Agreed," I chimed in, bounding down the cliff side. "Where are we going again?"


	14. Anger Management

"We should go to the Varden," Eragon declared as we sat around the fire. "It'll be safer for Saphira and me than anywhere else in Alagaesia." I glanced over quickly at Murtagh and noticed that his face looked slightly troubled.

"I will travel with you, as I said," Murtagh began slowly, "but I won't go with you to the Varden."

"Why not?" Eragon asked in confusion. Murtagh sighed heavily.

"Just trust me." I snorted a bit at that. "It would be best for everyone here if I didn't go with you," he said. I couldn't help the unshakeable feeling that something was amiss here. It was like he was...

"But the Varden is the safest place to go," Eragon argued, cutting through my thoughts.

"Not for me it isn't," he growled back.

Eragon opened his mouth to say something else, but I quickly silenced him. "Eragon," I snapped, shooting him my most menacing glare. Jerking my head to indicate he should follow me, I rose from the fire and walked a little ways into the wooded area that surrounded our camp. I just hoped Murtagh couldn't hear us.

"What is it?" Eragon asked, his face clouded in confusion. I crossed my arms over my chest and peeked around him to where Murtagh still sat.

"Something isn't right," I replied softly. He furrowed his brow in annoyance.

"What do you mean? With what?"

"With Murtagh," I said impatiently, slightly gritting my teeth. "He's hiding something; something important. Whatever it is, he doesn't want the forces of good in this world to know about it."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

I wanted to reply, _'Because he's acting the way I would act if someone in the Varden were asking me about my father.'_ But instead, I said, "I can just tell, Eragon. You need to trust me. He's acting very strange." Eragon rolled his eyes slightly, which caught me off guard.

"Why do you have such a personal vendetta against him?" he snapped accusingly. "What has he ever done to you?"

My mouth hung open for a moment in shock. I'd never heard Eragon speak like this before, especially to me. "I don't have a vendetta against him," I whispered angrily, trying not to gain Murtagh's attention. "I'm trying to tell you what I have observed in our travels thus far. There's no reason for you to jump down my throat like that. Why do you trust him—someone you've only known for a couple of days—over me? I've been your best friend for almost sixteen years, Eragon!" I couldn't contain my anger any longer.

"I don't know!" he yelled, clearly just as frustrated as I was. "There's just... something about him. I know I can trust him, but I don't know how. I wish you could feel it too, that way you'd stop hating each other." I watched as he paced back and forth, eyes narrowed at the ground and brow furrowed in anger. He turned back to me, a desperate look on his face. "All I'm asking is that you get to know him a little better. Please?"

I searched his face for a moment before sighing heavily and hanging my head. "I'll try," I lied, giving him my most sincere look. He nodded firmly before turning and going back to the campsite.

I couldn't think what was the matter with him. He was acting completely insane. With the way he was acting, I didn't think I'd ever be able to get through his thick skull and show him that there was something wrong with Murtagh. Eragon wanted me to get to know him, so we'd all get along, but this only heightened my distrust of him.

When I returned to camp, the two of them were standing a little ways away from the fire, circling each other with their swords drawn. They were going to spar, and I had to feel sorry for Eragon. From what I could tell of Murtagh, he was very skilled with a blade, and although Eragon was proficient with a sword, I had my doubts about how this fight was going to go. With a heavy sigh, I plopped down in the dirt in front of the fire and watched them continue to circle each other, their eyes narrowed in concentration. Eragon looked extremely non-threatening compared to Murtagh; what with his boyish, rounded face and lesser height. Murtagh was tall, and broad of shoulder, and his movements held a particular animalistic grace, like a predator stalking their prey. He also had about three years on Eragon, so it wasn't surprising to me that he had more experience with a blade.

Finally, Murtagh made the first move: a quick swipe at Eragon's head. Eragon easily parried the blow and responded with his own lunge at Murtagh's torso. I knew that the edges of their blades had been blocked with Eragon's magic, but I couldn't help the pang of fear shooting through my chest as their swords scraped across each other's skin. They never drew any blood, but I could see where bruises and welts were beginning to form on Eragon's arms. He was fighting well, but Murtagh was besting him on more than one occasion. The fight continued on without the prospect of a winner, which was surprising to me. I had to credit Eragon's success to his reckless fighting style; his moves were erratic and formless. Murtagh was doing well countering him, but I could tell he was having difficulty anticipating Eragon's next moves. Each of them tired at the same rate, and although Murtagh's moves were carefully calculated, he was having a hard time finding an opening in Eragon's defenses. Then, suddenly, Murtagh flung a fist into Eragon's chest, knocking him to the ground. The older boy twirled his hand-and-a-half sword by his side, the sharp metal gleaming in the firelight, preparing for the final blow. He brought the blade down but Eragon got his sword up just in time, grabbing hold of Murtagh's wrist and pulling him down. They ended up with the other's blades at their throats.

"A draw," I said, standing up and walking towards them. Their chests rose and fell rapidly as they tried to regain their breath. Murtagh got up first, sticking the point of his sword into the dirt to help him to his feet, and reached down a gloved hand to help Eragon.

"That was amazing!" Eragon exclaimed, slapping Murtagh roughly on the shoulder and smiling like an idiot.

"You were fantastic!" Murtagh replied, smiling right back and shaking his head. "I've never met someone with your skill level. How long did you say you've been practicing? I could barely keep up with your moves!" _Well, that's because he has no idea what he's doing, you dolt..._ They were talking and congratulating each other as if they were brothers; it was positively nauseating.

"Alright, alright," I cut in, pushing between the two of them and turning my back on Murtagh, "knock it off you two. We need to be formulating a plan, not playing around with metal sticks." Murtagh sat heavily on the ground by the fire, his breathing finally returning to normal.

"What do you mean?" Murtagh asked, his mouth full of a chunk of bread.

"You're disgusting..." I muttered under my breath, doubting that he heard me. "Well, I don't know about the two of you, but I have no idea how to get to the Varden. We need to figure out how we're going to find them."

"She's right," Eragon said, his breathing still slightly labored. Well at least someone was listening to me. Eragon looked behind him at where Saphira was laying at the edge of the camp, keeping watch over everything. "Saphira says that Brom told her about a man in Gil'ead named Dormnad, before he died. He said this Dormnad would know the way to the Varden."

"Finally, now we're getting somewhere," I muttered. I glanced furtively at Murtagh, brows slightly arched. He only glared back at me, his grey eyes glinting sharply.

"Come now," Eragon pleaded, looking between the two of us. "Just calm down. I think you two need a way to release your anger." My head snapped around to look at him.

"What are you talking about, Eragon?"

"I do believe he means that we should spar," Murtagh responded pointedly, his deep voice as cold as ice.

I had to scoff. "As if I'd consent to that," I sneered, crossing my arms over my chest and tossing an errant lock of hair over my shoulder in a show of flippancy. A wicked smirk spread across Murtagh's face, and I had a flashback to a glimpse of a man with red eyes. My breath caught in my throat, but he didn't seem to notice.

"Why?" he asked, dragging out the word in a sickeningly honeyed tone. "Are you scared, Tabatha?" I could feel my face growing hot with anger, and it was only because Eragon shoved a hand in my chest that I didn't jump across the fire and rip his arrogant little head off.

"I'm not afraid of you," I seethed through a clenched jaw, fighting in vain against Eragon's firm grip on my arm.

"Then fight me," he growled threateningly, egging me on further. My anger only grew, and I thought my head was going to burst. I only grew more incensed when he had the gall to laugh at me, throwing back his head.

"You asked for it," I snapped harshly. Eragon tightened his grip on my arm and pulled me back down to the ground when I went to reach for my sword.

"Not tonight," he said hastily. "Wait until morning. Right now, we need to get some rest." I glared menacingly at Murtagh, but finally consented, albeit begrudgingly.

"Fine," I growled, jerking my arm away from him and stalking over to my bedroll by Saphira. She snorted slightly at me.

_'Boys will be boys,'_ she said calmly, trying to console me.

_'Yes, well I'm going to show these boys exactly what I'm made of. They have no idea what they've gotten into,'_ I replied, rubbing her snout affectionately. I crawled beneath my blankets and turned my back on the two of them. They continued talking for a while, recounting their glorious battle over and over again, but when they finally decided to get some rest themselves, Eragon laid down right next to me.

"This isn't one of your best ideas, Eragon. You know that, right?"

"It'll be good for the both of you," he replied. "But I'll tell you, he is very strong. He may be big, but he's also quick. And watch out for that finishing move of his as well. It caught me off guard and―"

"Eragon!" I snapped, cutting him off. "I know how to fight. I can take care of myself, thanks."

He smirked slightly at me, which only served to irritate me more. "I know that, but I'm just trying to help," he replied. _Why did these men underestimate me so?_

"I've got this under control." I turned away from him and slowly settled into sleep, and as I drifted off I had to wonder, do I really?

 

* * *

 

The traveling for that day was relatively easy, but there was a knot firmly situated in my stomach that wouldn't go away. Although I was loathe to admit it, I was nervous. I'd seen Murtagh fight the night before, and he was skilled, to say the least; I had the utmost confidence in my abilities, but as night drew closer, I was beginning to wonder if I could actually best him. He was half again my size, and was certainly stronger, though I thought that I would probably beat him with my speed.

When we finally stopped for the night, Murtagh started the fire as I prepared myself. Slowly and deliberately, I unsheathed my hand-and-a-half sword that Brom had given me. Our skills would be matched even more tightly since we had the same type of blade. I slipped on my weathered leather gloves, tightening my grip on the hilt. Eragon came over and blocked the edges of my blade with magic. When I looked closely, I could just barely see a shimmering blue light going all the way around the rim of the blade. As long as the weight didn't feel any different, it wouldn't bother me. Eragon did the same for Murtagh; he swung his sword in wide arcs off to his sides, the blade making a loud _whoosh_ as it cut through the air.

"Try not to kill each other," Eragon said pointedly, eyeing us both. I settled into my stance, ignoring his little quip and never taking my eyes off of Murtagh.

"Don't hold back," I growled at him as he settled into his own stance.

"Wasn't planning on it," he replied in an equally as threatening tone. We both went silent, just watching each other and the subtleties of the other's movements. The intensity with which he stared was captivating; he kept a careful watch on the way my body was moving, trying to flesh out exactly what I would do next. I studied him too, remembering all of the things Brom had taught me. His sword arm twitched slightly, the point of the blade angling toward me. I could see the muscles in his arms tense, and I knew that an assault was coming.

There was a moment of breathless anticipation, in which I imagined I could see every tiny movement he made: the twitch of his hand, the furrowing of his brow, the intake of his breath, and then... He attacked. I was expecting it to be just like his first attack on Eragon from the night before, and it was. Without much effort, I swiped his blade off to the side. He waited another moment before swiping at my legs, and again, I knocked his sword away with a loud metallic _clang!_ These little short swipes continued on for a while, and I couldn't help but grow irritated.

"You'll have to do better than that if you want to best me," I laughed sharply, my voice sounding cruel to my own ears. His eyes narrowed in annoyance, making his face take on a dark look.

He swiped at me a couple more times, only a bit harder than before, until I grew tired of his antics. He aimed a blow at my upper arm, which I blocked easily, but this time, instead of merely swiping his blade to the side and waiting for his next move, I made one of my own. Lunging forward, I made a swipe at his exposed neck, and he only barely brought his blade up in front of his face in time. I saw the opening in his defenses, and made a quick feint at his stomach. He jumped back to avoid the dulled edge of my blade, glaring at me with his hard, grey stare. I was gaining the upper hand here, and he could tell.

I moved forward, swiping and lunging and slashing in a whirl of movement, my steps calculated and planned. Although I was using my best combinations, he was still blocking them, though only just barely. He made a swipe at my neck and I ducked down, finally landing a hit on his knee. He jumped back in alarm, letting out a cry of shock and anger. He was growing frustrated, and I could use that to my advantage. Brom had always told me that a frustrated opponent was one easily beaten. He took the offensive then, lunging toward me with a cry of rage, but I jumped aside. He followed me, swinging his blade in a blind sort of rage. Soon, he'd lose all sense of awareness, and I'd be able to route his defenses. Everything was playing out perfectly. _If I could just draw him in..._

My sword arced through the air, aiming for a slash across his broad chest, but his blade came up to meet mine, stopping it with a sudden jolt. I pushed against him with every ounce of my energy, feeling my muscles tightening. He countered me easily though, as I knew he would. What I didn't expect, though, was the enormity of the strength with which he pushed against me. I'd been leaning heavily against him, and his sudden burst of strength threw me off guard. My backside connected with the ground with a hard thump, my sword coming free of my grasp, and I stared up in anger at that telltale swing of his sword. _No!_ This was not the end. I was _not_ going to be beaten by _him_!

His sword came down towards my neck, but I kicked out at it, knocking it away from my body. Time seemed to slow as I watched the sword move away from me, and then Murtagh's grip loosening on the hilt. The blade began to spin, flying out of his grasp and landing near Eragon where he stood by the fire. I saw the look of utter shock on Eragon's face, and then looked back to see the same look reflected on Murtagh's. He stared down in confusion at his empty hand for a moment. _This is my chance!_

His gaze connected with mine, and I saw that he was not quite ready to give up yet. Now was my opportunity to use my famous finishing move that I'd used on Brom many times before. I placed both hands behind the line of my shoulders and arched my back slightly, pushing my feet off of the ground and forcing my weight backwards. As my legs swung over my head, I felt the heel of my boot connecting with the underside of Murtagh's jaw. When I got into a crouching position, I snapped my head up and saw him staggering backwards, clearly taken aback by the sudden force of the blow to his head. But I wasn't wasting any time. My left leg came out from under me in a sweeping kick, knocking Murtagh's legs out from under him. He landed with a thud on the ground, staring up at the sky in a daze.

I had dropped my sword when he knocked me to the ground, so I grabbed my unblocked dagger from my bootleg and vaulted forward, landing on top of him. His strong hands shot up to grab my arms, but the dagger was already resting on the base of his throat, a small trickle of blood seeping out from under the blade, a shocking red against the tan skin of his neck. The battle was over, and I had won.

We both breathed heavy gasps of air, staring into each other's eyes intensely. And not a peep was to be heard from the stunned Eragon. We stayed like that for a long moment, scrutinizing each other's faces. Murtagh's mouth opened, as though he was going to say something, but then I realized the position we were in. Our faces were mere inches away from each other, one of his hands on my arm and the other gripping my hip. My legs were straddled over his hips, and my chest was pushed up against his own. He seemed to realize it at the same time that I did, for his face was beginning to turn scarlet in a slow blush. I pushed myself up off him, bounding agilely to my feet, and looking over to see Eragon's mouth hanging wide open.

"Tabby!" he exclaimed incredulously. "I had no idea you could fight like that! I mean, I've seen you before, but that was incredible."

I stared at him in dumbstruck wonderment. "This was your idea, Eragon. And you didn't think that I could actually win!" I barked, causing him to flinch. I sighed and rubbed my eyes wearily. "There are a lot of things you don't know about me, Eragon." I glanced back at Murtagh. He had sat up, but was still sitting on the ground, legs extended straight out in front of him. He was staring at me in a daze, as if he didn't truly believe what had just happened. I just shook my head at him and turned away, heading into the woods to be in solitude.

 

* * *

 

I sat in a little grove of trees, resting on a boulder and drawing lines in the dirt. It felt good to just be alone, away from all of the stresses of being on the run, always looking over my shoulder to see if soldiers were nearby. As I daydreamed, listening to the sounds of the nighttime, I heard a twig snap behind me. Jumping up and pulling my dagger, I saw Murtagh standing there, hands held up in surrender.

"What do you want?" I growled, lowering my dagger.

"I just wanted to come and tell you congratulations," he said slowly, putting his hands back down at his side. He hesitated, looking away from me. "I... You're a very skilled fighter, Tabatha. And I'm honored to have been able to spar with you." With that, he turned away and disappeared back through the trees. I watched him go, feeling a tightening in my chest, and I had to admit that I'd enjoyed sparring with him as well. And I couldn't help the little triumphant smile that spread its way across my lips.


	15. One Year Older, And None The More Wiser

I awoke the next morning feeling a little sore, but I felt really good about myself. I had beaten Murtagh, even though Eragon hadn't believed that I could. Not only had I surprised Eragon, but I'd surprised Murtagh as well; that gave me the most satisfaction. I stretched my arms over my head and let out a long, drawn out yawn. Today would be a good day; I could feel it.

Slowly, I sat up from under my blankets and looked around the campsite. Eragon and Murtagh were still asleep, which didn't surprise me. It was still before dawn. I quietly crept out from under the blanket and saw that Saphira was keeping a watchful eye on the camp. She looked over at me and let out a small snort.

 _'Where are you going, Tabatha?'_ she asked.

 _'I saw a pool connecting two rivers in the wood last night,'_ I replied, pulling my long hair out of the leather strap that held it back from my face. It had been weeks since I'd bathed, and I couldn't imagine that I smelled too great right now. _'I need to take a bath or I'm going to go crazy.'_

 _'Be careful,'_ she chided softly, scanning the camp surroundings with her hawk-like gaze.

 _'Of course.'_ I grabbed my blanket to use as a towel and headed through the trees that were bathed in early morning light. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, casting a warm glow over everything. The songbirds were beginning to chirp their tunes, welcoming the day. It must be nice for them, not ever having to worry about being chased by soldiers or keeping their identities hidden...

I heard the stream gurgling and soon found the pool that I'd stumbled upon the night before. Removing my clothing, I slipped into the cold water, shivering a bit. Once I'd gotten used to it, it wasn't so bad, but I didn't want to spend too long in here. I ducked down beneath the water and popped back up, sending my wet hair flying and flinging water. I'd made sure to bring along a bar of soap when we left Carvahall, and I was now eternally grateful for that. When we'd fist set out on this journey, I was woefully unprepared for how much time we'd be spending in the wilderness. I wet the soap and then lathered the bubbling foam into the locks of my hair, actually feeling the dirt and grime coming off of it. The feeling was like heaven, and I suddenly wished I didn't have to leave. It felt so good to do some normal activity again. By the time I'd washed all of the soap out of my hair, the sun was shining brightly, warming the water and my skin.

The boys would be awake by now... I should be getting back... But it felt so good! Just a couple more minutes...

Suddenly, I heard a twig snap behind me and I immediately went on high alert. My senses were running wild, and when I turned around, standing there very much shirtless, was Murtagh. He held a shocked and confused look on his face, and it seemed as though his eyes were about to pop out of his head. With a yelp, I ducked down below the water from the shoulders down. But still, I was sure he had seen something that he shouldn't have.

"Get out of here!" I screamed, covering myself with my arm, though that only served to push my chest upward. He held up his hands innocently, eyes still wide in fear. I noticed that there was a little bit of a blush creeping into his cheeks, like the one I'd seen last night after our sparring match.

"I'm sorry!" he yelled back, averting his eyes to look anywhere but at me.

"Just go!" Birds were screeching loudly in protest at our disturbance, but I didn't care. If I ever got my hands on him again, I was going to kill him!

"Ok, ok," he stuttered, turning quickly and heading back through the trees. Once he was gone, I could feel myself relax again. And then I felt my chest tightening. How much more embarrassing could that have been? By the gods, he saw me naked! What's more, I saw _him_ partially naked! My face was growing hot with anger and embarrassment, and I was now dreading going back to the camp.

Slowly, I climbed out of the water onto the bank, carefully making sure that Murtagh wasn't still lurking around somewhere. I wrapped myself in my blanket to dry off and then hurriedly pulled my breeches and tunic back on. Once I was fully covered, I could relax a bit, but I was still seething. He was going to pay for this...

As I walked back to camp, drying my hair with the blanket, I saw Murtagh sitting in stunned silence by the smoldering embers of last night's fire, his shirt still mysteriously missing. He looked up at my arrival but I walked silently past him towards my saddlebags. Eragon was sitting cross-legged on his bedroll, watching us with careful interest.

Murtagh rose from where he was sitting and came towards me. "Tabatha..." he said, his hands spread in a gesture that pleaded with me to forgive him. As he drew closer to me, much closer than I would have liked, I held up a hand to stop him.

"Either put your shirt back on, or go take a bath," I said quietly, pushing on his hard, chiseled chest with one finger. He swayed slightly backwards but he didn't try to argue. Slowly, he turned away, and I couldn't help but notice a jagged scar on his back, stretching from his right shoulder all the way down to his left hip. The skin was stretched taut and pink, and I had to wonder what had happened to him to give him that scar...

He walked away through the trees, throwing one last glance over his shoulder at me before he disappeared from sight. Once he was gone, Eragon hurried over to me. "What on earth happened, Tabatha?" he asked frantically. "I heard screaming and yelling, and then Murtagh came back here looking like he'd just accidentally killed a man." I looked over at him and, for reasons unknown to myself, I hesitated.

"I was taking a bath," I finally said, "and Murtagh stumbled across me in his own quest for cleanliness. I... Well, he frightened me, which is why you heard screaming. A lot of yelling and a little blushing later, Murtagh came back here." Eragon looked at me in stunned silence for a moment, completely speechless.

"Well, um... That's-"

"Unfortunate for him," I cut in, finishing the sentence for him. "If you thought that I hated him before, that's nothing compared to now."

"That _is_ unfortunate," he agreed, looking down at the ground. "Did he...?"

"I don't know if he saw anything, Eragon. But even if he didn't... Well, let's just say I haven't been known to be very forgiving." He only nodded his head at that, and walked back over to Saphira.

My hair was nearly dry by the time Murtagh returned, his bare chest still gloriously exposed for the entire world to see. He shook out his dripping locks of hair like a dog and ran his own blanket roughly over his head. His hair was sticking up all over the place, and I had to resist the urge to laugh. Then, mercifully, he slid a shirt over his head. He was starting to become very distracting...

"We should get moving as soon as possible," Eragon said hastily, no doubt trying to divert our attention from what had just happened. I merely nodded while Murtagh remained silent. "All right then, I'm going to ride Saphira." I shot him a glare for I knew what he was trying to do: he wanted Murtagh and me to talk. But there was no way that was going to happen. I could feel my anger boiling up inside me, but Eragon mounted Saphira and they flew off before I could protest.

When he was gone, I turned back to the horses and saw Murtagh staring at me. "What?" I snapped, strapping my saddlebags onto Snowfire. He made to say something but I swung up into the saddle and laced Cadoc's reins through Snowfire's bridle before he could utter a sound. He quickly mounted his own horse, Tornac, and followed me as I spurred the horses into a quick trot.

"Tabatha!" he called out, quickly catching up to me. I could see him peering at me out of the corner of my eye, but I refused to look at him. "I know that you are very angry with me, but it was an accident, I swear it. I had no idea that you would be there. I'm truly sorry, Tabatha." I peeked over at him out of the corner of my eye and couldn't help but notice the entreating look that was on his face, just like the one he'd been wearing the first time I'd seen him, like he was intent on saving something...

"That still doesn't change what happened," I said quietly, my voice full of anger.

"If it makes a difference," he continued slowly, "I didn't see anything." I scoffed at that sharply. "It's true! You are too quick for me, just like in our fight last night." I was wondering when he would bring that up...

"You seemed in quite a daze when I left you last night," I replied, a tiny smirk crossing my face as I relived my triumph.

"I was," he admitted, which quite surprised me. "I've never met anyone with your skills as a fighter. At first, I was angry, but then I realized that it was a wonderful learning experience. I picked up a few moves from you even. Except for that little acrobatic stunt; I don't think I'll ever be able to emulate that." I laughed sharply at him, though it came out harsher than I had intended.

"I'm a girl, which means I'm naturally more flexible than you," I retorted smartly. He only chuckled softly in response.

"Yes, I am very aware that you are a girl," he said softly, "but something like that takes some serious skills. Where did you learn to fight like that?" I hesitated while I tried to fight back the tears that had suddenly welled up in my eyes.

"I learned practically everything I know from Brom," I muttered, choking on the words. "I started besting him though when I figured out that finishing move. He always said I was an imaginative fighter."

"That's incredible," he murmured, still staring at me. "I've trained for years with some of the best fighters in the Empire, but I could barely touch you."

"Well... you weren't so bad yourself," I admitted begrudgingly. "You certainly gave me a run for my money."

"Perhaps we can... spar again sometime?"

"Don't press your luck," I quipped back.

"Alright, alright… You certainly are touchy sometimes." I knew that was true, but what did it matter to him? It wasn't like we were friends, or even acquaintances. I just snorted at him and smirked. "So... I've been wondering for a while—ever since we first met, actually—what's a girl like you doing traveling with the only Rider in Alagaesia besides the king?"

"I'm not sure that's any of your business," I shot back. "And what exactly do you mean _'a girl like me'_?"

"I meant no offense." He cut his tone short and I knew that he had been about to say _'m'lady'_. "You just don't look like the type of girl who would up and leave home for an adventure to me."

"You know many girls that do such things?"

He shook his head firmly. "No, that's not what I meant..." I could tell he was struggling to find the words, and I had to hold back my laughter. It was quite funny, in an endearing sort of way. "I just mean that you seem like a grounded type of girl. You know what you believe in and you stand up for it, and you know who you are. There's an... unshakeable sense that I get about you. Like nothing anyone ever says could make you question your beliefs. A girl like that... Well, she doesn't seem like one to take unnecessary risks and go off on high-flying adventures."

"Looks can be deceiving," I growled.

"That much is evident to me now," he laughed quietly. "Now stop changing the subject. Why are you traveling with Eragon?" Apparently he just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"We had to leave our home in the Spine," I said slowly, choosing my words carefully.

"Why?"

"If you really must know," I said impatiently, "Galbatorix's soldiers came into town. They came looking for me one night, and that's why I had to hide at Eragon's farm. I knew I had to leave before I was found out, and when the Ra'zac showed up and Eragon had to leave as well, the opportunity was just too good to pass up. Eragon and I have been best friends all our lives, so I figured... why not?" I was mostly just saying this to get him off my back, but part of me longed to tell someone—anyone—of the struggles that I'd been through.

"Why were Galbatorix's soldiers looking for you?" he asked, something in his voice changed. I looked over at him and was startled by the fire that I saw blazing in his eyes. _What's gotten into him?_

"I don't know," I lied. "No one saw fit to tell me, and now the only person that could have told me is dead." I'm sure that I sounded bitter and heartless to him right now, but that was what came with a lie.

"Well... you must have done something to make Galbatorix angry," he said. "Are you certain you don't know what you did?"

"Yes," I snapped harshly. "I think that I would know if I'd done something to anger the king." He must have been able to tell I was lying; else he wouldn't have persisted in asking me.

He only grunted and said no more on the matter, a dark look coming over his face. Murtagh was very perceptive, that much I could tell. He had a way of seeing into my mind with those intense eyes that no one else did, not even Eragon. If I was going to keep my secret, I would have to be much more careful around him.

 

* * *

 

Eragon's birthday, and mine, passed without mention. We were both sixteen now, but I had barely even remembered that it _was_ my birthday. In Carvahall, there would have been a large celebration for both of us. For Eragon, it would have been a celebration of his entrance into manhood. And for me, it would have been recognition of my becoming a woman. I was old enough to take a husband now; start a family if I wished. But things like that didn't matter out here in the wild. I was glad that neither of us brought it up, and I'm sure that Murtagh would have made a big spectacle out of it as well.

All ideas of birthday celebration aside, Gil'ead was growing closer every day, as were my mounting nerves. Gil'ead was a huge military fort, the worst possible place for me and Eragon right now. If I was discovered, that was the end of it: my secret would be revealed and all hell would break loose.

"You seem very on edge," Murtagh said to me as we rode along the deserted road, the daunting outline of Gil'ead looming on the horizon.

"Well, perhaps I am," I said through a clenched jaw.

"Tabby," Eragon said. I looked over at his sympathetic gaze. "Everything will be fine. I'll make sure of it." I knew he was only trying to help, but he wasn't exactly giving me much reassurance.

"Thanks, Eragon," I replied as genuinely as I could. I couldn't help but notice that throughout this journey, Eragon and I had begun to drift further and further apart. I was no longer dependent upon his presence, and I could take care of myself. The revelation of my true identity really was turning me into someone else.

We camped in a small valley between some hills just outside of Gil'ead. "I'll go into the city tonight and see this Dormnad. Once I speak to him, I'll come back here and get you two," Murtagh said. Well, well, look who's decided to take charge.

"Sounds good," Eragon said firmly, starting a small fire.

"I'll be back soon," he said, glancing at me quickly before he turned and left. He was so odd sometimes. I just rolled my eyes at his retreating form and then heard Eragon laughing.

"You two are so funny," he said quietly.

"What do you mean?" _'Funny'_ is not exactly the word I would use to describe the relationship between me and Murtagh.

"I just get the feeling that you don't hate Murtagh as much as you say you do," he continued.

"Well I think you're crazy. I am well aware of whom I do and do not like, thank you very much," I replied, poking the fire with a stick and sending sparks flying into the air. "You know, Eragon, you may be a year older, but I don't think you've gotten any wiser." He laughed heartily at my joke, but there was a sadness still in me. "But then again, neither am I." This last part I whispered to myself. What did I know after all? I can fight with a blade, and I'm good at taking control in tough situations, but that was about it. In the past year I've learned to take care of myself, but what has that given me? I was afraid the answer was: nothing. The only thing I've done is hurt the people I love and grow further away from my best friend.

I told Eragon at the start of this that I would help him, but I'm not so sure that I can anymore. It seems that all I'll be able to do is hurt him. What I needed was someone to help me come back to my friend, and to myself. Will that person be Eragon? Maybe someone that I haven't even met yet? Or will it be the one person I'm dreading that it could be?


	16. We Have To Work Together?

Murtagh came flying out of the gates of Gil'ead like a bat out of Hell, Tornac's hooves beating furiously against the hard ground and his breathing labored. One would have thought that the entire Imperial army was coming after him. Eragon and I watched him draw closer from behind a knoll, and when he finally reached us he vaulted off the horses back, landing hard on the ground.

"What happened?" Eragon asked quickly, a twinge of excitement on the edge of his voice. Murtagh strode past us to the fire and we quickly followed suit.

"Is anyone following me?" he asked hastily, grabbing a chunk of bread and a few slices of meat.

"No," Eragon replied after glancing over his shoulder back at the city. "What happened?" Murtagh still didn't answer; he just continued to stuff his face like an animal. Eragon finally just sat across the fire from him and waited for him to finish. Finally, Murtagh stopped shoveling food into his mouth.

"Are you finished?" I asked with a hint of disgust. He glared at me for a moment before deigning to reply.

"Yes," he growled in a low voice, slightly rolling his eyes.

"Well then by the gods, tell us what happened," I snapped impatiently.

"Dormnad has agreed to meet us," he replied, directed toward Eragon. "If he's satisfied that you really are a Rider and that it's not a trap, he'll take you to the Varden."

"Where are we supposed to meet him?" Eragon asked. Murtagh loosely pointed in a southwesterly direction.

"On a hill just across the road, at dawn," he said.

"So why were you running for your life out of Gil'ead?" I asked him pointedly.

"I met someone in the street who knew me. So, I did the only thing I could: I ran. But it was too late, he'd already recognized me," Murtagh said, poking the ground with a stick. "If you knew the man, you'd know that his mouth hangs off its hinges and his tongue is very loose."

"I doubt we'll have to worry about the soldiers coming for us til morning, and by then we should be leaving with Dormnad," Eragon mused quietly. But Murtagh shook his head vehemently.

"No, only you two will accompany him," Murtagh said quietly. "As I said before, I won't go with you to the Varden." Something stirred inside of my chest, but I couldn't precisely place what the feeling was. Eragon opened his mouth to speak, but Saphira must have silenced him for he remained quiet. He merely nodded somberly and slipped beneath his blankets into sleep. I watched him for a couple minutes, and his breathing became even and deep; I knew he was asleep then.

I shifted my view to Murtagh, who was staring blankly into the flames of our campfire. The light reflected in his grey eyes, enhancing the wolfish look that they already had. His face was unreadable though. Never before had I had such a hard time reading someone.

He looked up at me suddenly, consternation plastered across his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked in an irritated manner.

"Looking at you like what?" I replied sheepishly, averting my own violet eyes from his captivating gaze.

"You were looking at me strangely."

"I was not," I argued.

"Oh, yes you were," he retorted hotly. I kept my eyes downcast for a moment before flicking them up to his face.

"Why won't you come with us to the Varden?" I said quietly, genuinely curious about his motives.

"Why can't you just let it be? I'm not going, and that's the end of it," he replied forcefully.

"You pester me about things all the time. I think it's my turn now," I shot back. He sighed heavily and stood up, turning and leaving me alone by the fire. Saphira's great blue head followed his retreating form, but she didn't seem terribly concerned. _Oh no you don't! You're not getting away from me that easily!_ I jumped up from the fire and hurried after him.

 _'Let him go, Tabatha,'_ Saphira said softly, her claws digging into the soft dirt _. 'I'm sure whatever his reasons are, they are justified in his mind.'_

 _'I need to know, Saphira. I need to know if we can still even trust him,'_ I replied hastily, running past her. She just watched me go too and stayed curled around Eragon's sleeping form.

There was a small wooded area just off the road and I saw Murtagh's form disappearing between the trees. When I finally caught up to him, he stood with his back to me in a small clearing, basking in the bright moonlight. "Hey!" I snapped, stomping to a halt and placing my hands on my hips. "I've got a bone to pick with you." He slowly turned to look at me, his gaze strangely vacant.

"Don't you always? What is it this time?" he replied, a harsh twinge of sarcasm in his voice.

"Why won't you come to the Varden?" I asked angrily, the heat of my boiling blood coming into my face.

He let out a terrifying growl from deep within his throat and I saw his fists clenching at his sides. "I just can't, alright!" he yelled ferociously. I had to scoff at the ridiculousness of that answer, and I watched as he began to pace across the small space of the clearing, looking like an animal trapped in a cage. I had a flashback then, to the dream I'd had of the man with red eyes, and I couldn't help but marvel at the remarkable resemblance Murtagh bore to him.

"You are insufferable!" I shot back, coming towards him while he traced a path back and forth through the dirt. His head reeled around towards me, flinging his long, dark hair off to the side.

"I'm insufferable?" he seethed. "You are quite possibly the most obnoxious girl I've ever met. You have this idea that the whole world is out to get you, when it's not! From the moment I met you, I've only wanted to help. And yet you refuse to even give me the chance to prove myself. You know nothing about me, and yet you judged me without any precedence whatsoever!" My breath caught in my throat and I could feel my chest tightening.

"I did not," I growled through a clenched jaw.

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh and threw his head back. "Yes, you did! Nothing I ever did appeased you, Tabatha. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did, I wasn't good enough for you! I never am!"

I furrowed my brow and searched for something clever and witty to say, but all I could come up with was, "What are you hiding?" He looked taken aback at my sudden and obviously unexpected accusation.

"I'm not hiding anything," he said quickly.

"I know that you are," I snapped harshly. "You always have this look on your face, as though you're expecting to be ambushed around every corner. You get defensive at the drop of a hat and you are vehemently against going to the Varden, though you can give no valid reason as to why. And I get the feeling you were on the run from something long before Eragon and I were. Now what are you hiding!"

"I just don't want to go! Is that a crime?" he yelled in anger.

"No, it's not. But it isn't a reason either," I retorted, following him as he started to pace again. "You must have some reason for not wanting to go!"

He whirled around to face me, grey eyes blazing in fury. I could see a vein in his forehead starting to stand out and the muscles of his forearms clenched tightly. "If you want to go there, Tabatha, we can go there," he growled, deathly quiet. "You must have some reason for lying to me about why the Empire is looking for you." I hitched my breath as the force of his words knocked it right out of me. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him long and hard. It seemed we had come to an impasse.

"Fine," I seethed. "When you tell me what it is you're hiding, I will tell you what I've done to anger Galbatorix." I had no intention of ever revealing my secret to him, but if I ever wanted to find out what he was hiding so fiercely, I had to dangle a carrot.

He groaned and brought his hands up to his temples, squeezing them against his head. "I cannot tell you!" he exclaimed. "You wouldn't understand!"

"Try me."

"No, Tabatha," he said gruffly, his voice suddenly going low. "It does not matter what I've done, when you hear what I have to say, you will just have proved yourself right all along."

"I knew it," I whispered, fear suddenly fluttering into my chest and making my heart beat faster. I could feel my blood rushing through my veins, creating a pounding in my head. "Tell me."

"No, I will not jeopardize how far I've come." He shook his head sadly and raised a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes.

"You coward!" I suddenly yelled, pushing against his hard chest with both hands. "What have you been keeping from us?"

"I'm the coward?" he said incredulously. "Does Eragon know your little secret, Tabatha? Does he know that he can't trust his best friend anymore?"

That sent me over the edge. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Murtagh!" I drew back my hand and sent it flying towards his face with all the strength I could muster. "I would never betray him for— " My nails were inches away from raking across the skin of his cheek when his hand shot up and encircled my wrist, stopping it dead in its tracks. He held my hand there by his face and I saw his other hand coming around my neck, drawing me closer. I was so caught off guard that I suddenly froze in fear, unable to do anything to thwart his superior strength.

He drew me into his chest and I couldn't help when my mouth popped open in surprise as his lips crashed roughly into my own. He pushed against my mouth with a hunger and a fervor I'd never known, and I thought my whole body would burst into flame. _Can this really be happening?_ I felt his tongue slowly run over the edge of my bottom lip, and my heart dropped into my stomach. He still had me pinned—one hand firmly grasped in his hold, and the other arm pinned against him—but I suddenly found I didn't want to move. My eyes closed of their own volition and all I could feel were his lips moving slowly against mine and the pressure of his strong hand on the back of my neck, keeping me firmly planted against him. There was a growing warmth in the pit of my stomach, and I felt my raised hand relax, my wrist going limp in his firm grip.

Suddenly, he jerked away from me forcefully, pushing me away from him and causing me to stumble a bit. His grey eyes were full of fire and anger, and something else... _Was it confusion?_ "What on earth was that for?" I asked breathlessly, still trying to regain my composure. My whole body was shaking from head to toe and my lips were tingling.

"To get you to shut up," he whispered exasperatedly. Without another word, he turned and was gone, disappearing into the darkness of the trees.

My knees buckled out from underneath me and I hit the hard ground with a _slap!_ , bent over with my forehead touching the ground and my hands splayed out for support. The earth seemed to be spinning all around me and I could no longer tell which way was up and which way was down. Nothing seemed right anymore, as if my brain had done a one-hundred and eighty degree turn. There was a knot forming in my abdomen, and for a moment I thought I would retch. My breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and I felt myself losing control. _What just happened? Why am I feeling this way?_

Slowly, I sank into a curled up position, hugging my knees to my chest. I closed my eyes and willed the spinning in my head to stop. Nothing was making sense. Why had he done that? I don't understand. Do I...? No, it can't be. I hate him! I have since the day we met! Why is this happening? Nothing seemed to make any sense to me anymore, and I had to wonder if Murtagh's head was spinning just as much as mine...

 

* * *

 

It was just before dawn when I returned to the camp. I'd spent the night on the cold, hard ground, waking in fits and starts when my thoughts ran wild. As I entered the camp, I saw Murtagh running about between saddlebags frantically. Saphira stood off to the side, looking agitated, and Eragon was strangely nowhere to be found.

"What happened?" I asked in a frenzied confusion, running over to Murtagh. "Where's Eragon?" He looked up at me, eyes narrowed and brow scrunched tightly together.

"There you are! Where have you been?" he asked, turning his attention back to the saddlebag. "Ah! Never mind, that doesn't matter right now. We were ambushed by Urgals while you were off doing only the gods know what. I managed to escape and I thought Eragon was right behind me, but I was wrong. They've taken him into the city."

"We must go after him!" I cried, looking towards the high walls of Gil'ead.

"Do you not think I'vealready thought of that?" he said exasperatedly. "But we can't just go bursting into a heavily fortified city like Gil'ead; we need a plan."

"Then pray, tell me what your thoughts are, oh fearless leader," I sneered.

He gave me a half-hearted and sarcastic smile. "I don't need your sarcasm right now, thank you. Now look," he said in a serious tone, putting both hands on my shoulders, "we're going to have to work together if we want to save him. Do you think you could do that for me, just this once?" I could feel my face beginning to flush as memories of the night before flooded my mind. He seemed to be thinking the same thing, for he pulled away and stood up straight.

I took a deep breath to steady my heart rate and then replied, "Fine. But just this once." He nodded firmly and seemed to relax a little bit. "What's the plan then?"

He hesitated for a split second. "I'm not sure," he said. "I was hoping you would have some ideas." I rolled my eyes and slapped him hard over the top of his head. "Ouch! If I'd known working with you would be so painful I wouldn't have suggested it in the first place."

"Just shut up, will you? We've got to think," I groaned, pacing slightly as I wracked my brain. "First of all, we need to get some disguises. Do you have an extra cloak?"

"What's wrong with yours?"

"Yours is bigger; it will cover my face better," I explained slowly, as though speaking to a child. His face indicated that he didn't take too kindly to my tone. "The soldiers in Carvahall recognized me from the color of my eyes. I don't doubt that the ones here have been given the same description. If we want this rescue mission to work, everything will depend upon me staying hidden. You'll need a disguise too, since we already know that you've been revealed."

"I'm sure I can scrounge up some animal furs to create a false beard," he replied, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Good," I said, glancing over at Saphira. _'We're going to need help with this, Saphira. Can you carry three?'_

 _'Not for long,'_ she replied slowly. _'But I will try.'_

 _'Thank you,'_ I said. Slowly, I turned back to Murtagh where he still seemed to be deep in thought. "Saphira will help us with the getting out of the city. We're going to need her."

"Alright then, at least we're getting somewhere now," he said, heading towards the edge of the clearing. "I'll be back." I watched as he walked away and plopped down by the remnants of last night's fire. It had taken everything within me not to think about what had happened last night, but every time he looked at me with that piercing gaze, all of those memories were called to the forefront of my mind. His hand on the back of my neck; the urgency of his mouth against mine; his tongue... No! I can't be thinking about that. He said himself that it didn't mean anything, so why should I be concerning myself with it? But it didn't feel like it didn't mean anything... _What is happening to me?_

 

* * *

 

Murtagh returned a couple hours later, two dark-furred animal skins in hand. He sat for the next hour in silence, weaving and sewing the strips of the skins into a workable beard that he could tie around his face. I finished packing up the camp while he worked, and once he was done, he tied on the false beard and pulled up his hood.

"How do I look?" he asked, holding his arms out to the side. I couldn't help but laugh at him. He looked completely ridiculous to me, but it would work in the dark.

"Ridiculous," I said, repeating my thoughts with a chuckle. "Though not bad for an hour's work." He harrumphed slightly and took the beard off, mumbling something to himself. "We'll wait a couple of days until things settle down a bit, then you and I will go in on Cadoc while Saphira flies in overhead. I'll distract the guards and then you'll take them out. After that, we'll be able to get inside; it shouldn't be too hard to find him. Saphira will take out the guards on the roof and we'll escape from there."

"And what about Cadoc?" he asked.

"I'll send him back here after we take out the guards." He merely nodded, but there was skepticism in the look he gave me.

We sat in silence for a while after that, turning to our own thoughts. I wasn't altogether sure what he was thinking, but I could guess. He kept glancing over at me, and although I saw him out of the corner of my eye, I pretended not to notice.

"Tabatha," he finally said quietly. I looked over at him and saw a concerned look on his face. "About last night—"

"It doesn't matter," I cut him off shortly, my voice firm. "You said yourself that it didn't mean anything, so there's no point in talking about it, is there?" He seemed taken aback by my sudden harshness.

"I... Tabatha, I don't know what to say," he continued, staring down at his hands where they were clasped in front of him. There was a slight breeze blowing through the clearing, and it forced his long hair in front of his face.

"Then don't say anything."

"Will you just listen, Tabatha?" he said shortly. I kept quiet and watched as I saw him visibly struggling to find the words. It took him another moment, but he finally looked up at me. His eyes normally looked hard and determined, but there was a softness to them now. "I have not been blessed with an especially easy life. Things in my past... Well, let's just say that no one should ever have to go through such things." I remembered the scar I'd seen on his back and had to suppress a shudder. "I was raised to think that I was above everyone else, and as such, should treat them so. It took me a very long time to realize that this wasn't the case. In fact, quite the opposite is true. I have found myself to be the lesser of many great men. But all of this cannot account for what I did last night. I had no right to kiss you." I sucked in my breath slightly when he said that, the image flashing into my mind. "And I don't know what came over me. I was so angry... I just wanted you to know that I'm truly, deeply sorry, Tabatha. And I hope that you can forgive me."

I found that no words came to my mind. All I could say was, "I will accept your apology, Murtagh. But I'm not sure I'm ready to forgive you just yet."

"I don't expect you to right away," he said softly, looking back down at his hands. We fell quiet after that, but thoughts of him and the kiss we shared kept roiling around in my head.

 

* * *

 

As the sun sank below the horizon, I started a small fire and began preparing a thick stew for supper. We'd started taking turns with the cooking, and tonight was Eragon's night. But since he was noticeably absent, it fell on me. I was nervous, because I hadn't cooked for them yet, and I didn't want anything to go wrong. As I stirred, Murtagh sat sharpening his sword, the sharp edge of the blade gleaming red against the flames. The stew finished cooking and I ladled some into a roughly carved bowl and went over to him, handing over the bowl. "Thank you," he said, putting his sword off to the side. I grabbed my own bowl and took a seat across from him.

"You're welcome," I said softly, taking a spoonful.

I watched nervously as he lifted the spoon to his mouth and sipped. He looked up at me quickly, eyebrows raised. "It's good," he said. "Better than Eragon's, that's for sure." He took another spoonful, gulping it down.

"You seem surprised," I replied, somewhat bitter at the lack of faith he had in my cooking abilities. He smirked slightly.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't. I know where you learned to fight, but where did you learn to cook?"

"My aunt," I replied shortly. "I lived with my aunt and uncle my entire life, and learned the household duties of a woman." He spluttered on the spoonful of stew he'd just put in his mouth, spewing it out of his mouth. He let out a hearty laugh and I felt my face growing hot with anger. "What's so funny!"

"I just..." He laughed again, trying to catch his breath. "I can't imagine you as a housewife, that's all." He continued to laugh, and I couldn't stop myself from picking up a small stone next to me and hurling it at his head. The stone hit him on the jaw and he jerked back, letting out a cry of protest.

"It isn't funny," I said darkly, my brows furrowing.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands as I drew back to catapult another rock. I narrowed my eyes at him, but finally put the rock down. "Why did you live with your aunt and uncle? Why not your parents?" I looked away from him and tossed another branch onto the fire.

"They died when I was very young." Well, that was a half-truth. "I barely remember them, but I do recall that I have the same color eyes as my mother." I only knew that piece of information because of Brom.

"I'm sorry," Murtagh said slowly. "How did they die?" I looked up at him, my mouth set into a thin line.

"They were murdered by agents of the Empire," I replied bitterly. That was also just a half-truth.

"My parents are dead too," he said quietly.

"Aye, so are Eragon's," I continued. "It seems that's all Galbatorix can create: death and parentless children."

"I am not a child," he said harshly. "I'm eighteen years old."

"Nor am I; I'm sixteen! But you were young when your parents died, yes?" I asked. By the gods, he was touchy sometimes.

"Yes," he returned begrudgingly.

"That's all that I meant," I explained. He rolled his shoulders.

"Sorry," he replied even more begrudgingly than before. I just shook my head at him and returned to my soup.

 

* * *

 

As the night wore on, I noticed him fiddling with something in his hands. He seemed to be intently focused on whatever it was; I couldn't help it when my interest became piqued. "What are you doing?" I asked, craning my neck to try and get a better view of whatever was in his hands.

"Nothing," he said hastily, shoving the mystery object into his pocket.

"Secrets don't make friends," I muttered under my breath.

"Ah, but friends do make secrets," he retorted quickly.

"Oh really? And whoever said that we were friends?" I said matter-of-factly. I was only making a joke, but his face suddenly became serious.

"Don't you want to be?" he asked. I stared at him for a moment, unsure of whether my face betrayed what I was truly thinking.

"I don't know," I said quietly. "I'm still trying to figure you out, Murtagh. There's still so much that I don't know about you, and there's a part of me that's wary of trusting you."

"Do you not know enough?" he asked. "You know my name; I should think it would be clear by now that I'm here to help you; and I'm willing to try and be your friend if you are as well. Is that not enough for you?"

"I cannot answer that." I averted my eyes, looking anywhere but at him. "Perhaps in the future I will be able to, but not now." I heard him exhale sharply.

"Well... that's good enough for me... for now," he said. I turned away from him and crawled beneath my blankets. I struggled to fall asleep, but I felt a single tear roll down my cheek.

 

* * *

 

The day of the rescue, we were both extremely tense; I could feel it in the air. We packed up the camp in silence and moved the horses further away from the city... And then we waited.

As the sun set, Murtagh handed me a large black cloak. "Thank you," I said quietly, clasping the cloak around my shoulders. It was heavier than mine, but it would serve its purpose.

"Tabatha, I uh... " he started slowly, "I have something for you." _What?_ He had something for me? I stared at him strangely for a moment as he pulled something out of the pocket on his tunic. That must have been what he was fiddling with by the fire the other night. Slowly, h opened his hand to reveal a multi-colored, braided rope bracelet. "My mother made these for me when I was young, and taught me to make them. It's a good luck charm. Here." I held out my wrist and allowed him to tie the bracelet around it, my skin tingling where his fingers brushed against it.

"Thank you," I whispered, holding my wrist up to inspect it closer. There were three colors weaved across one another: a dark violet, deep forest green, and pitch black... my favorite colors. How did he know? I looked up into his eyes. "How—?"

"Just a guess," he said smirking. And how did he know what I was about to say? "We should get going. It's already late." He turned away and grabbed his fake beard, tying it around his face, as I mounted Cadoc, settling into the saddle.

"Shall we?" I asked, holding out my arm. He grabbed hold of it, wrapping his fingers around my forearm, and pulled himself into the saddle behind me. My body started to tingle at the close proximity, but I pushed those thoughts out of my head.

 _'Saphira,'_ I called out to her. She had already taken off and was circling high above the city _. 'Fly low and be careful.'_

 _'I will,'_ she replied.

Murtagh grabbed the reins from around my waist and I settled my arms on top of his. Even through the layers of fabric between us, I could feel the heat coming off of his skin. "If anything happens," he whispered in my ear, his breath tickling it, "stay close to me." I nodded shortly and he spurred the horse forward, heading towards the city fortress. We rode through the gates without incident and stopped at a tavern just a ways away from the citadel in the middle of the city.

He hopped out of the saddle and reached up to me, grabbing me around the waist and helping me down to the ground. I looked around us at the sparsely populated streets, and I felt a pressure mounting at the base of my skull. Something was wrong here. I was getting the feeling that I wouldn't be leaving here on Saphira, and I would need Cadoc again soon.

"Go ahead and send him back to the camp," Murtagh said. I looked around nervously in the dim lamplight.

"No," I said slowly. "Something isn't right here. I get the feeling I'll need him." Was this another of my mother's gifts?

Murtagh eyed me quizzically, but if he thought it strange, he didn't say anything. "Very well. Let's get moving," he said, walking around me. I followed him as we made our way toward the huge building where I was sure Eragon was being held.


	17. Escape Was Never Going To Be Easy

"Alright, there are the guards," Murtagh whispered, leaning around behind me to look at the two men who stood ambling at the front of the building. "How are you going to distract them?" I glanced at him over my shoulder, cocking an eyebrow and giving him a smirk.

"Don't worry about it. I've got this under control," I replied confidently. "Now, help me with my tunic."

"What do you mean?" he asked quizzically.

I stared at him pointedly for a moment, hands on my hips, and eyebrows raised. "Help me pull my tunic down over my shoulders," I said slowly, hoping he would catch my meaning without having to explain it any more.

His eyes went wide, and I noticed a slight blush creeping into his cheeks. "H-huh?" he asked dumbly.

I rolled my eyes and flung my cloak out of the way. "Just do it!" I hissed quietly. He didn't argue after he saw the glare that I gave him. Turning around, he placed his hands on my shoulders, taking hold of the fabric and tugging slightly. He pulled down in the back while I yanked at the front, creating a plummeting neckline. My shoulders were bared and the top of my chest was exposed, and I took care in... adjusting myself so as to seem more enticing. I pushed on my chest until it seemed about to pop out of the loosely-pulled corset I wore beneath my tunic. I turned back to Murtagh and saw that his eyes were still wide, and he seemed unable to avert his gaze from my breasts. "Hello?" I snapped my fingers at him and he blinked quickly, looking at my face again.

"What? Sorry..."

"I'm going to go over there and distract them, and when they're not looking, you're going to take them out. Got it?" I asked. He nodded firmly and pulled his yew bow from beneath his cloak, nocking an arrow.

I turned and came around the corner into the view of the two guards, sauntering as best I could. There was a serious deficiency of young males in Carvahall, so I hadn't really gotten any practice at being flirtatious. Slowly, I eeked closer to the guards. They both noticed me at the same time and stood up a little straighter.

"Well, hello there," one of them-the taller one-said, giving me a slight smirk that revealed the blackened and rotting teeth within his mouth.

"Why don't you come on over here, sweetie?" the other called. My hair fell into my face, and I could only hope that it hid the look of utter disgust I could feel forming there. I stopped next to the shorter one, the one closest to Murtagh, and leaned my shoulder closer to him, baring more of my bosom.

"Sorry boys," I purred in my most seductive voice. "I'm not working tonight. But... I think I could make an exception for a couple of handsome men such as yourselves." I stroked the soldier's cheek beneath his helm, quelling the desire to vomit. This man smelled of rotting cheese...

They both chuckled darkly, a malicious glint coming into their eyes. Plotting my moves carefully, I backed up down the street towards the fortress, so that when they followed me their backs would be facing Murtagh. They followed me, just as I had anticipated. Suddenly, the one whose cheek I had stroked went rigid, his dark eyes going wide, and fell face-first to the ground. Before the other could react to his fallen comrade, he too fell to the ground, an arrow protruding from his back.

Murtagh suddenly emerged from the shadows, his face concealed by the false beard and the hood of his cloak. "Nice show," he remarked dryly.

"Thanks," I shot back, my voice full of sarcasm. "Come on, let's get going." I tugged at my tunic until I was covered again and then pulled my hood back up around my face. So far, so good.

We slipped quietly through the gate and then into the building. There weren't any guards around, which was fairly surprising to me. They must have all been on the upper level.

"Can you find him?" Murtagh asked quietly, keeping his bow held aloft in case of any sudden attack. Acting on instinct alone, I spread out my consciousness, taking care to avoid alerting my presence to any other mind I felt, and searched for the one that felt most like Eragon's. It took me a few moments, but then I found a mind that felt like it was about to make an idiot decision. That was Eragon.

"I found him," I said. "He's two floors above us. Come on." I led the way up the stairs, Murtagh following close behind. When we finally reached the floor Eragon was on, there was a group of half a dozen soldiers already there. Murtagh pushed me behind him and unleashed his arrows into the bodies of the soldiers, catching them unawares. Once all of the soldiers had fallen, I emerged from behind Murtagh's large frame.

"Tabby!" Eragon exclaimed, pulling me into a tight hug. "What are you doing here? It isn't safe."

"I wasn't going to let Murtagh have all the fun," I teased, drawing away from him.

"Come on," Murtagh chimed in, pulling off his fake beard, "we have to get out of here."

"No, we can't leave," Eragon said, gaining to very quizzical looks from Murtagh and me. "There's an elf here. We have to get her out." What? This was not part of the plan!

"An elf!" Murtagh exclaimed, matching my sentiments exactly.

"Yes, and there's also a Shade here. We'll have to be careful," Eragon continued, as though nothing were amiss. A Shade! As if the news couldn't get any worse...

"Come on, let's just get this elf and get out," I groaned. Eragon nodded firmly and led the way down the hall. He opened a cell door at the far end of the corridor and revealed the slim-framed elf. She looked up at Eragon in confusion, her long black hair cascading in front of her emerald eyes, and then collapsed. Wonderful. Dead weight was just what we needed...

Eragon picked her up and slung her over his shoulder, hurrying back into the hallway. He directed us toward the armory where they'd taken his weapons and then laid the elf down under one of the many wooden tables in the large room. Murtagh and I waited impatiently near the door as he sorted through the racks; with a Shade lurking around I was extremely on edge, as I'm sure Murtagh was too.

_'All right, Tabby,'_  I heard Saphira say, _'I'm ready.'_

_'Good. Take out the guards on the roof and we'll meet you there shortly.'_

_'Very well,'_ she replied. Suddenly, I could hear soldiers out in the hallway, and they were getting closer.

"Tabby," Eragon whispered hurriedly. "Hide, now!" I dove beneath the table where Eragon had placed the elf, smacking painfully against the hard, stone floor. With a colossal  _bang!_  the door to the armory burst open. All I could see of the man were his legs, but I instantly knew who and what he was: the Shade. "Durza," Eragon hissed.

"Ah, the young Rider," the man said, his voice sounding like nails against stone to my ears. "It seems you wish to test yourself against me. I shouldn't have trusted the captain when he said you ate all your food. I won't make that mistake again."

"I'll take care of him," I heard Murtagh say quietly, followed by the distinct sound of wood against wood as he placed his bow on the table next to him, and then the metallic scraping that came when he drew his sword from its sheath.

"No," Eragon replied under his breath, deathly quiet. "He wants me alive, not you. I can stall him for a while, but then you'd better have a way out for us."

"Fine, go," Murtagh growled. "I don't think you'll have to hold him off for long." I heard Eragon drawing Zar'roc out of its sheath, but he stopped mid-pull.

"Wait a moment," I heard the Shade say. He sniffed the air and then chuckled darkly. "You've been hiding something from me." I sensed the attack before it came and jumped out of the way as the wooden table exploded into a shower of splinters. I don't know what came over me, but I grabbed the elf by the wrists and drug her away from danger, pushing her under another of the wooden tables.

Quickly, I stood up beside Murtagh and looked over at the Shade. His face was grotesque, to say the least, and when he fixed his unsettling red gaze on me, I felt a shiver of fear go down my spine. He seemed to be pulsing with a strange light, and a black shimmer ringed around the edges of his whole body. From what I knew of Shades, they were agents of dark magic, who called upon evil spirits and demons to give them their powers. This one stared at me with his head cocked to the side, a little smirk of triumph on his face.

"Hello there," he hissed in a sickeningly sweet tone that didn't befit him at all. "You are a very hard person to find, Tabatha." The king must have informed him of who I was. "Yet here you are, within my grasp. The king will be most pleased when I tell him that you have finally been caught." I could feel Murtagh tensing beside me, and I only hoped he wouldn't bring this up later… If there even was a later...

"You'll never take her," Eragon spat venomously, drawing his sword.

"Ah!" the Shade exclaimed with a smile and a clap of his hands. "Young love. This will only make it that much more enjoyable when I tear you two apart." I felt the heat rising to my face, and I made to protest the Shade's accusation, but Murtagh silenced me with a single look. The intensity with which he glared at me let me know he was not to be trifled with right now. So I clamped my mouth shut and watched the scene unfolding before me.

With a snarl, Eragon finished drawing the red sword from its sheath, its crimson blade glinting in the light from the torches on the wall. A venomous gleam came into the Shade's maroon colored eyes, and they seemed to be burning from within by some malevolent flame.

"Do you really think to defeat me, Du Sundavar Freohr? What a pitiful name. I would have expected something more subtle from you, but I suppose that's all you're capable of," the Shade sneered. I really had no idea what they were talking about, but my head was beginning to ache from remaining in the evil creature's presence. Murtagh pushed me further behind him, picking up his bow again and pulling an arrow across the wooden shaft.

"Stay behind me, Tabatha. I don't know what this foul creature is capable of," he breathed, never taking his fierce grey eyes off of the red-haired man. Normally, I would have been offended that he was trying to push me off to the side, but under the circumstances… Well, I'd never encountered anything like the Shade before. If I had inherited any powers from my mother, they would certainly be useful here, but they would also serve to reveal my secret to the two men. So, as it stood, I allowed him to act the protector and stay in front of me.

A colossal boom sounded above us, and I knew that Saphira had landed on the roof. Thank the gods for that. We'd be able to escape soon. The ceiling shook, and some of the rafters began to come loose. Eragon flicked his eyes upwards momentarily, but it was all that the Shade needed to wheedle his way through Eragon's defenses. In a flurry of speed and movement, the Shade aimed a slash at Eragon's ribs with his sword. He barely brought his sword up in time, but I could tell Eragon was struggling to match Durza's strength. The fight would not be so easy. Durza aimed a few more quick strikes at his sides and arms, but Eragon deflected them all, though just barely.

And then a horrifying screech filled the air, like that of a thousand dying men. That must have been Saphira's claws scraping against the stone of the roof. Hopefully, she wasn't having too much trouble with the soldiers. But from the shouts of terror and fear, I didn't imagine they were thwarting her in any way.

Eragon started retreating towards me and Murtagh, trying desperately to hold off the Shade. It was clear that he was losing, and badly at that. Something had to be done,  _now,_ or else none of us would be leaving here. With a move that was a blur, the Shade flicked his wrist and knocked the red sword out of Eragon's grip, sending it flying across the room and forcing Eragon to his knees.  _No!_

Involuntarily, I latched onto Murtagh's shoulders, feeling the tense muscles of his back beneath his clothing. "Murtagh, do something," I whispered frantically in his ear. He didn't say a word as he drew back the drawstring of his bow and let the goose-feathered arrow fly across the room. It embedded itself in the Shade's shoulder, eliciting a hiss from his fanged mouth and causing a surprised look to spread across his face.

But then Durza laughed and reached over his shoulder, snapping the shaft of the arrow with two long-nailed fingers. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to stop me." Murtagh didn't seem fazed when Durza turned his face back to Eragon. His intense gaze remained firmly fixed on the Shade as he drew another arrow. I marveled at how steady his arm remained, and his breathing stayed incredibly even. He certainly was a well-trained warrior.

"Watch me," he snarled. Durza turned at the wrong moment, and the arrowhead caught him square between the eyes. I had to stifle a gasp when he loosed a howl of agony, writhing in pain and covering his face with taloned hands. His pale skin began to turn a sickly gray, and a strange mist formed around him, obscuring him from sight. A shattering cry filled the air and then… the cloud was gone. Where Durza stood was nothing but a cloak and a pile of clothes.

"You killed him!" Eragon exclaimed. But Murtagh's face remained strangely impassive.

"I'm not so sure," he replied darkly. As for me, I was wasting no time.

"Come on! We have to go!" I yelled, goading the others out of the armory. Eragon retrieved the elf and followed me and Murtagh up towards the roof. Saphira was waiting for us there amidst the bodies of Imperial soldiers; but it wouldn't be too much longer before more soldiers came to take their place. It was then, when Eragon was bounding up into the saddle and Murtagh was handing the elf up to him, that I realized why I'd gotten such a strange feeling before. Eragon situated the elf in the saddle in front of him, and Murtagh climbed up behind.

"Come on, Tabby. Let's get out of here," Eragon said, reaching down for me. Slowly, I shook my head and backed away from Saphira. "Tabatha! What's wrong? We have to go!"

"I can't Eragon," I said quietly, my voice distressed. "Saphira can't carry four people. You'll have to go on without me."

"No! Tabatha, I won't go without you!" He suddenly turned towards Saphira's head, whom I'm sure was reaffirming what I had just said.

"Go, Eragon," I said firmly, backing up even further towards the door that led back inside. "I'll be fine. I'll meet you all outside the city." Murtagh suddenly swung his leg over Saphira's scaly side and dropped to the ground.

"I'll stay with you, Tabatha," he said, jogging to my side. "You'll need help getting out of here without getting caught by the soldiers." I would never have admitted it aloud, but he was right: I needed his help. I gave a nod to show my thanks and he had the good grace to only nod in return.

"I won't leave both of you here!" Eragon protested.

"Eragon! You're going to get yourself killed if you stay here!" I screamed. "Just go before we're all caught!"

He made to say something else, but I turned my gaze toward his dragon. ' _Saphira!'_ I called out to her. She swung her massive head around towards me.  _'Get him out of here before we all get killed. Wait for us where the horses are picketed.'_

_'Of course,'_ she replied.  _'Tabatha, you and Murtagh be careful.'_

_'We will,'_ I assured her. Saphira spread her massive wings and vaulted into the air, dodging the arrows that were being shot at her from the other rooftops and the ground. She let out an agonized roar and I realized she'd been hit, my heart dropping into my stomach. I looked back at Murtagh and saw the worried expression he held on his face. "Come on, we've got to go. They'll close the gates if they realize we're still here."

We hurried back into the fortress, expecting to see soldiers rushing up the stairs. But they were surprisingly absent. Another floor down, however, was a completely different story. There were soldiers everywhere, running around madly as if they had no direction. I backed up against the wall where I wouldn't be seen and Murtagh did the same.

"So what's the plan?" he whispered, glancing around me and the corner of the wall.

"I have no idea, I was hoping you had some ideas!" I spat quietly. He glared at me for a moment, picking up that I was mocking his earlier statement.

"That's not funny," he replied seriously. I merely rolled my eyes at him. "We've got to get out of here. Do you have your sword?" I stared at him pointedly, eyebrows raised.

"What am I, an idiot? Of course I have my sword," I growled.

"Ok, I just asked," he scoffed defensively. "There aren't that many now, so take out as many as you can and I'll cover you. Got it?" I nodded firmly.

"Got it," I replied. Slowly, I unsheathed my sword as Murtagh nocked an arrow on his bow. We nodded to each other shortly, and after taking a deep breath, I jumped out from behind the wall, cutting down a soldier to my right. He never even saw it coming, and I felt an icy cold rush through my veins when I saw his eyes go vacant and his limp form drop to the floor. But I didn't have time to dwell on it; another soldier was right behind him, and I was just thankful the hallway was narrow. Otherwise I would have had too many of them on me at once. Arrows flew past my head with a whistle, embedding themselves into the bodies of the men further down the hall. One man ran screaming down the hallway, blood spurting from where the arrow was protruding from his neck. Finally, we fought our way through, leaving a trail of bodies in our wake.

The soldiers became fewer and fewer as we went along; they were all headed up to the roof as we were going down. It was fairly easy to slip past them and out of the fortress. Murtagh and I breathed a sigh of relief as we smelled the fresh air outside.

"That was a close one," I said, out of breath from our flight out of the building.

"Yeah," Murtagh mumbled, looking around frantically to see if we were being followed. I suddenly looked down at my wrist and then held it up, smiling.

"I guess this thing really works," I said, waving the bracelet around. "You won't see it off my wrist from now on, ever!" He smirked lightly at that.

"It does. I told you so," he said matter-of-factly. I rolled my eyes and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Shut up," I muttered with a smile. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. And perhaps there was a chance that we could become friends. Maybe...

We made it back to the tavern where Cadoc was tied out front, and I hopped up into the saddle, Murtagh jumping up behind me after untying him from the post. He spurred the horse forward and we rode swiftly out of the gate, not even gaining a glance from the guards as we followed along with the crowds going in and out. We reached the clearing where the other horses were picketed in fewer than ten minutes.

"Thank goodness you're all right," Eragon sighed in relief.

"Yes, well we're not out of the clear yet. If the company commander has any brains, he'll send a search party out soon. We need to keep moving," I said, glancing nervously over my shoulder. Murtagh dismounted Cadoc, and I noticed that his hand lingered on my side for a long moment before he drew away and went to his own horse.

"What about the elf?" Eragon asked. I rolled my eyes and held back the scoff I so desperately wanted to let out.  _Like I really care about her? I just want to get out of here before I'm captured and then carted off to Uru'baen to be used by my father!_

"Just tie her to the saddle! Hurry up, we need to leave!" I yelled. Eragon quickly strapped her to Saphira's saddle and then climbed onto Snowfire's back. Murtagh led the way out of the camp, his cloak flapping wildly behind him. I followed suit as Saphira flew into the sky and Eragon galloped closely behind. Hopefully, it would be morning before anyone was sent out to find us. I looked back over my shoulder at the city, and wondered how we were going to find the Varden now.


	18. Competition Doesn't Help My Anger Issue!

We rode for hours on end without rest under the threat of being caught. Torches glared behind us as the soldiers were undoubtedly searching for us. The endless riding was exhausting, but I had to push onward; I was not about to be captured now when I had come so far. It wasn't until the next day that we decided to stop, out of pure exhaustion alone.

We met Saphira as she drank from a stream at the base of a cliff, the elf still bent over in her saddle. I couldn't help but think she was being quite dramatic. Why isn't she awake after a day and a half? This is getting to be ridiculous. The last thing we needed right now was to be weighted down by some helpless elf.

Eragon and Murtagh immediately went to Saphira's saddle to get the elf down. Really? Look at how they're fawning over her! I growled from deep within my throat and glared in their general direction. The male species never ceases to amaze me. They never even once lift a finger to help me, but as soon as one pretty face comes along they're the perfect gentlemen.

When they were finally done waiting on Her Highness, they helped me set up camp, though I was nearly done already. We wouldn't be staying very long so the camp was very small. I growled and huffed angrily as we laid out our bedrolls and plopped down on the ground. Murtagh looked at me quizzically for a moment, one eyebrow cocked above the other..

"Are you alright, Tabby?" he asked, his piercing gaze searching my face. Eragon looked at me as well. But I just glared at both of them.

"No, I am not alright," I growled angrily. The look of confusion only heightened on both of their faces.

"What's wrong with you?" Eragon inquired. I rolled my eyes at them both. What could I possibly say? As if they would understand! I hardly understand what I'm feeling myself! I growled again.

"It's nothing, just leave me alone!" I yelled angrily, crawling beneath my blankets and turning away from them.

What is going on with me? Why am I acting this way? It must be because of the elf. Every time I see her I just get so angry! And then, to add to it, the way that Eragon and Murtagh dote on her is absolutely insufferable! Maybe I am a little jealous; they've never once offered to help me out, not that I really needed it, but the gesture would have been nice. Don't they know that competition doesn't help my anger issues!

 

* * *

 

"The Hadarac Desert? Are you mad! We'd never survive in that desolate wasteland!" I yelled at Eragon's stupidity. Really, how could he be so moronic? We wouldn't survive three days in the desert, and yet he wanted us to trek across it. Had he really learned so little in the time that we've been away from home.

"Tabby is right," Murtagh muttered. Over the course of the past couple of days, Murtagh had taken to calling me by my nickname, just like Eragon. I didn't necessarily like it all that much-it's not as though we had suddenly become best friends or anything like that-but I didn't really mind either; I had more important things on my mind. "We will never survive in the desert. It's full of poisonous and inedible plants and hostile creatures. Not to mention the complete lack of water. The desert is three times bigger than the Great Plains outside of Gil'ead; we'd never survive that long without water."

"It is our only choice," Eragon argued. "We cannot go back to the east and the Empire, only Du Weldenvarden lies to the north, we couldn't slip by unnoticed to get to Surda in the south; it is the only way!" I rubbed my temple impatiently as he argued his point.

"Then how do you suggest we do it? How are we going to travel that distance without any water?" I snapped. Eragon reached into his pack and pulled out a musty old map of Alagaesia he'd gotten from Jeod in Teirm.

"Look here," he said, pointing to the bottom right hand corner of the map. "If we cut sideways across the desert we can get to the Beor Mountains and hide there. It's roughly the same distance it took us to travel to get to Gil'ead."

"That trip took nearly a month!" Murtagh exclaimed heatedly, flinging his hands in exasperation..

"We were moving slowly on account of my injuries," he said calmly, slightly glaring up at Murtagh. "If we push ourselves, we can cut that time nearly in half."

"That still doesn't solve the water problem," I said, always one to be a downer. Eragon furrowed his brow, deep in thought. Suddenly, he jumped up.

"I'm going to try something," he said, walking away quickly. He was certainly acting strangely, and I could only account it to the presence of the elf. Sometimes, I caught Eragon staring at her unconscious form, and I wondered what he was thinking.

"What's he up to?" Murtagh questioned, sitting by the fire and fiddling with another one of his lucky bracelets.

"Gods be damned if I know," I replied bitterly, looking out into the darkness.

"You're supposed to be his best friend, aren't you?" he laughed, focusing on the strings in his hands.

"That doesn't mean I'm a mind reader," I sighed impatiently, abandoning my watch and joining him by the fire. "Why are you making another one?" I pointed to the braided rope in his hands, and he looked down quickly, as though he'd just realized he was making one.

"Oh…" he started slowly. "I just do it when I'm nervous. It's a bit of a calming thing for me. I just focus on making the bracelet and I can tune out whatever stresses are on my mind. It's especially helpful for clearing one's head before a battle or a sparring match."

"That's certainly convenient," I remarked, watching him out of the corner of my eye. "Murtagh…"

"Hmm?" he replied absentmindedly, keeping his gaze on his hands.

"I… Well, I just wanted to thank you, for what you did in Gil'ead. You didn't have to stay and help me. But I'm glad that you did." Slowly, he turned his head towards me, locking his grey eyes onto mine.

"Can I be hearing correctly? Am I really hearing a _'thank you'_ from her High Ladyship Tabatha?" He knew how I hated to be compared to nobility, but I let it slide this time. It was somewhat warranted, as I'd still never properly thanked him for any of the other things he'd done for us.

"Yes, you are," I replied, punching him harder than necessary on the shoulder. "And if you keep _that_ up, you'll never hear it again. So don't press your luck." He laughed at that and turned back to the charm in his hands, a smile plastered on his handsome mouth.

Murtagh and I waited for almost half an hour, spending most of the time talking about how stupid Eragon was, until he came back. He was out of breath, but there was an idiot grin on his face.

"Well," I said, standing up and facing him, "is the desert open to us?" Eragon was beaming, but he looked very tired.

"It is," he breathed, his voice exhausted. "At first, I tried to turn the sand into water, but that sapped all of my strength; I couldn't even take a drink after trying that. But then, I realized that there was water underneath the sand. All I have to do is dig a hole in the sand, which takes a little amount of my energy, and then the water fills it up."

"That's brilliant," Murtagh commended. "It's settled then, we will take the path of the desert."

 

* * *

 

The Ramr River was a daunting sight as we sat atop a hill, gazing down at it. Saphira had gone ahead to check how far across it was, so all we could do was sit, and wait. I kept glancing over my shoulder as I could see the glowing torches of the soldiers. No matter how hard we had ridden, they were still right behind us. Suddenly, Saphira appeared out of the darkness.

"Alright," Eragon said, "Murtagh, you go across first so you can calm the horses on the other side." Murtagh nodded sharply and mounted Saphira, to whose belly the elf still was strapped. I couldn't help but think that things would have been so much easier if we'd just left her behind in Gil'ead. They rode off into the night sky and Eragon prepared the horses for their perilous journey. Saphira came back without Murtagh or the elf; Murtagh must have unstrapped her on the other side.

Slowly, Eragon led Tornac closer to Saphira. The horse began to whinny nervously as she flew up into the air. When her talons wrapped around his belly, he began to scream in terror, the sound sending chills up and down my spine. Snowfire did no better, nor did Cadoc. Once they were safely forded across, Eragon and I mounted Saphira, the soldiers nearly upon us.

The noise of the river as we flew overhead was deafening. I was glad to be rid of it on the other side. We wasted no time with getting on with our journey. The probability that the soldiers would try to cross the river here was very low, and that fact lifted all of our spirits. But it did nothing to stifle our fatigue.

As the sun rose in the sky, I looked up and noticed just how far we had come. The earth had grown soft beneath our feet and all vegetation, and even life itself, ceased to exist. We all pulled our horses to a stop and gazed out in awe and wonder. Stretching out vastly before us was the Hadarac Desert.


	19. Bonds

**A/N: Updated 01.21.2015. I’ve skipped most of the desert scenes. This chapter begins with Eragon speaking to Arya through mental contact.**

* * *

 

 

                Eragon had been kneeling beside the still-unconscious elf for the better part of a quarter of an hour. Murtagh and I glanced at each other nervously when his face contorted in pain, and I couldn't even begin to think what was going on between the two of them.

                "What do you think he's doing?" I asked Murtagh quietly, fearing that any noise we made could disturb the mental contact and ruin everything.

                "I have no idea," he replied just as quietly. It was another moment or two before Eragon stood up, stretching his muscles as they must have been aching from kneeling so long. I moved quickly toward him, Murtagh right behind me.

                "What happened?" I asked quickly. I had no interest in the elf whatsoever, but I did want to know if he'd found out the way to the Varden. His face was alight with excitement, though I'm sure for an entirely different reason than mine was.

                "I talked to Arya," he said. Murtagh and I exchanged a single, puzzled glance before turning back to Eragon. "That's her name." He must have realized we were completely lost. He then proceeded to tell us why she wasn't waking up. It was because the Shade, Durza, had administered some kind of poison, and the antidote she needed was with the Varden.

                "Did she show you how to get there?" I asked.

                "Yes, but it looks like it's a farther distance than we traveled from Gil'ead to here," he explained breathlessly. "If we don't get her there in three or four days, the poison will take effect and she's going to die." Murtagh and I stood in shocked silence as he continued to regale us with his fascinating tale about the inner-workings of the mind of an elf. It was if he didn't even hear what had come out of his own mouth.

                When he finally stopped prattling, I cut in. "Three or four days, Eragon!" I exclaimed heatedly, wanting very badly to walk over and smack him on the head—and very hard, at that. "Are you out of your mind?"

                "It took us five very _long_ days to get _here_!" Murtagh joined in, making as if he really was going to hit Eragon. "How do you expect us to get through the Beors in less time than that?"

                Eragon sighed heavily when we were done delivering our verbal onslaught. "Well," he began slowly, his voice full of trepidation, "Saphira could always take Arya and me on ahead while you two catch up." I could feel the blood rushing to my face and my breath catching in my throat. _Did he really just say that?!_

                "What are we? Your pack animals?" Murtagh replied. "I guess that's all we're good for nowadays, isn't it!" Eragon hadn't said as much, but that was certainly the implication. "Oh, and let's not forget, every soldier in the Empire is searching for us now, all because you couldn't defend yourself, and Tabby and I had to _save_ you. Yes, I suppose we'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like good servants." _That may have been taking it a bit far..._

                Eragon's face was clouded in confusion and bewilderment. "What's wrong with you?" he asked timidly, looking between both of us. "I'm grateful for what you two did. There's no reason to be angry with me! I didn't ask you to accompany me or to rescue me from Gil'ead. You chose that. I haven't forced you into doing anything!" I backed up a little bit, feeling that a fight was brewing, and I had no desire to be caught in the middle of it.

                "Oh, not openly, no. What else could I do but help you with the Ra'zac? And then later, at Gil'ead, how could I have left with a clear conscience? The problem with you," Murtagh continued, stepping forward and poking Eragon square in the chest, "is that you're so totally helpless you force everyone to take care of you!" I felt my mouth pop open in surprise involuntarily as I watched the scene unfolding before me. Tempers were flared and harbored feelings were now coming out in the open. This was not going to be good...

                "Don't touch me," Eragon growled, the effect less than threatening. He swiped Murtagh's hand away, but Murtagh only let out a sharp, bitter laugh. I was starting to think that there was something seriously wrong with him. I'd never seen him acting this way before.

                "Or what? You'll punch me? You couldn't hit a brick wall if you tried," Murtagh sneered. Now that was a bit harsh...

                "Hey! You two just cut it out!" They seemed not to hear me as Eragon inched closer.

                "Oh yeah?" he retorted in a childish manner. "Well you couldn't even best a girl in a fair fight." He gestured over towards me, never taking his eyes off the older boy.

                "Hey now!" I replied hotly. Why was he going to drag me into this now! But they just continued to ignore me. I saw Murtagh's brow furrowing in anger and the blood rushing to his face. Eragon was going to get it now...

                Murtagh moved in to push Eragon in the chest, but Eragon reacted quickly by grabbing his arm and landing a quick strike in his gut. They had both lost control of their senses, and I feared if I stepped in they might hurt me as well. I backed up even more as they began grappling with each other like wild animals fighting over a scrap of meat. They came towards me and I jumped out of the way, scrambling to Saphira's side. I saw Eragon succumbing to Murtagh's strength, and he backed straight into the campfire, nearly burning himself. That did it! Someone was going to get seriously injured!

                _'Saphira!'_ I pleaded. _'Do something!'_ She let out a snarl and stepped forward, raising her tail and slapping it against the ground between them. They tried to jump over it, but she brought both crashing down to the ground with her taloned paws.

                "All right!" I yelled once they were securely pinned. "Now that's quite enough! I will not stand for this senseless fighting. You two are acting like children!" They both struggled in vain against Saphira's powerfully muscled legs. I stood in front of Saphira over them, hands placed firmly on my hips. "You two are going to talk about your problems, and Saphira is not going to let you up until you work things out."

                Reluctantly, Eragon turned his head towards Murtagh, who just continued to stare up at the sky. "Well," Eragon said slowly, "you heard her. What's really the problem?" Saphira growled deeply and glared at Murtagh with her sapphire eyes, as did I. When he finally realized that he wasn't going to escape both of our gazes, he shrugged and mumbled something incoherent under his breath. Even with my superb hearing, I couldn't understand him.

                "That's not good enough," I growled as Saphira tightened her grip on his broad chest. Murtagh shot us both an angry look and then mumbled a bit louder.

                "I've told you before," he muttered, "I don't want to go to the Varden." Are we really getting back to this? I couldn't help but blush a little as I remembered the last time Murtagh and I had discussed this particular subject.

                A frown crossed Eragon's face. "Don't want to... or can't?" Murtagh tried to shove Saphira's leg off his chest, and then gave up with a sharp curse.

                "Don't want to!" he yelled angrily. "They'll expect things from me that I can't deliver."

                "Did you steal something from them?" Eragon continued. I wanted to jump in, but realized that Eragon was getting further with him than I ever had. Perhaps it would be best to let him handle it for now.

                "I wish it were that simple," he mumbled back.

                Eragon let out a sigh of exasperation. "Well, what is it then? Did you kill someone important? Or sleep with the wrong woman?" My face grew a bit warmer when he said that.

                "No!" Murtagh barked angrily. "I was born." There was a sort of pleading sadness in his voice, and I felt a pang go through my chest. He pushed against Saphira's leg again; this time, she released them both. They scrambled up off the ground, wiping dirt off their clothes.

                "You're avoiding the question," Eragon continued.

                "So what?" Murtagh stormed off to the edge of the camp, and I quickly followed, placing a hand gently on his shoulder when I caught up to him.

                "Murtagh," I said softly. He turned his face away from me, avoiding my gaze. But I wasn't going to let him off that easily. Slipping around his broad shoulders, I forced him to look into my face, using my shorter height to my advantage in this case. I saw Eragon out of the corner of my eye, lingering close by to try and hear. "It doesn't matter what you've done. We all have things about our pasts that we regret. You can tell us what it is." He looked up at me behind the locks of his dark hair that had fallen into his face, his normally fierce grey eyes looking immensely sad.

                "I haven't done anything," he replied quietly. "My only wrongdoing is existing in the first place. They hate me because of who my father was." I felt my breath leaving my body, forced out by the impact of his words. And there was a pain in my chest, so great it was all I could do to keep from crying. How could I have misjudged him so completely? To think that Murtagh was in the exact same situation that I was... it was almost unfathomable. Slowly, he looked up into my eyes. My face must have betrayed my thoughts, for a look of confusion came over his features. I made to say something, but Eragon cut in.

                "What do you mean?" he asked from over Murtagh's shoulder. He turned to look at Eragon.

                "You see, my father—" He was suddenly cut off by a low hiss coming from the deepest part of Saphira's throat. Her eyes were narrowed and fixed on the horizon. Eragon followed her gaze and gasped aloud.

                "Look!" he exclaimed, pointing behind me. I looked westward and a sense of impending doom settled over our small party.

                "Demons above and below," I heard Murtagh mutter darkly. About a league away marched a line of troops, a flag bearer heading their party. On the standard was emblazoned the black and red of the Empire.

                "They've found us," I whispered with dread. "I don't know how, but they've found us."

                "Those are not men," Murtagh said. "Those are Urgals. That flag bears the personal emblem of the Urgal chieftain, a ruthless brute." There was a terrible fear pooling in my chest, causing it to ache.

                "We have to go," I replied quickly, turning and grabbing my things to shove them into Cadoc's saddlebags. I heard Murtagh grumbling slightly behind me. "Look!" I whirled around to face him, catching him off guard. "We don't have time to argue about this right now. Come with us as far as the lake Kothsa-merna, and then you can go your own way. Besides, if you leave now in sight of a whole troop of Urgals, what are you going to do? Fight them yourself?" He pondered this a moment before rolling his eyes and packing up his own things.

                "Very well," he said darkly, "but when we near the Varden, I _will_ leave." I wanted very badly to question him about his father, but I knew this wasn't the time. Resigning myself to wait for answers, we sped off as fast we could, Saphira following overhead with the elf strapped firmly to her saddle.

 

* * *

 

 

                The three of us rode on in silence through the Beor Mountains. It had been two days since Eragon and Murtagh's fight, but still we had gained no lead on the Urgals. I looked up at the looming mountains around us and marveled that such things in nature could be so gigantic... And yet, here they were. I was beginning to realize this world I had occupied for sixteen years was much bigger than I'd ever dreamed possible.

                Even after talking about their differences, Murtagh and Eragon weren't speaking to one another because of something that had happened the day before. We'd been ambushed by a band of slavers. Luckily, Saphira landed just in time to scare them off, all except for their leader. The man—Torkenbrand, he was called—already knew who we were, so Murtagh killed him. I didn't see anything wrong with this, as the man presented a threat, but Eragon had gone absolutely mental. After Murtagh had explained his reasoning, I realized why it made sense to me. He spoke of living in fear of never waking to see the day, and that if we wanted to live, we must learn never to take chances. I knew this was true from my own experiences in avoiding the king's men. There was a strange sense that I shared with Murtagh now after learning he was hated because of his father. And although I didn't know all of the detail, I was going to make sure I found out soon. There was something that we had in common now.

                When we stopped that night to make camp in the mountain range, I tried to get them to reconcile with each other, but it was not to be done. There was no kindness in either heart at the moment. So, we ate in silence after I made the soup and I offered to take the first watch. Eragon agreed silently with a sharp nod and went straight to sleep next to Saphira, but Murtagh remained awake.

                "You should sleep," I offered quietly, trying not to wake Eragon. Murtagh's gaze snapped up to me from the fire, a hardness in his eyes. After a moment, he slowly exhaled.

                "I wouldn't be able to if I tried," he said quietly.

                "Why? Does something weigh heavily on your mind?" I was playing coy; I knew exactly what it was he was so wrapped up about.

                "You know there is," he muttered darkly. "Every moment that we grow closer to the Varden I become more tense and irritable. I don't mean to, but I just can't help it. I'm sorry, if I've been coarse with you two over the past few days."

                "It's all right," I said, giving him a half-smile. "But it isn't me you should be apologizing to. And you know, I meant what I said the other night. You can tell me what's bothering you. It won't matter to me. Believe me; I know what it's like to be punished for existing." I thought back to the time when I had to flee my home in Carvahall in order to protect my family, all because of the stupid Empire and my stupid father. Murtagh let out a scoff.

                "How could you possible know?" he said skeptically.

                "You might be surprised," I replied. "Come on, tell me what it is." He looked into my eyes and I tried my hardest to convey to him that I could be trusted in this.

                "You promise you won't tell Eragon?" he asked suspiciously. I laughed at him but, nonetheless, I raised my left hand and put the other over my heart.

                "I swear on my mother's grave, I will not tell Eragon whatever it is you're hiding," I said, my tone very serious. He nodded to show that he was putting every ounce of his trust in me.

                "Very well," he began slowly. "You already know it's about my father. The Varden will never trust me because of what he's done. He betrayed his own people, and worked for the man that the Varden are solely working against." He paused for a moment, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. "Tabatha... My father was the last of the Forsworn. My father was Morzan." I felt shock, to be sure, but it was a different kind of shock... like I had expected this all along. "Now you know why I cannot go."

                "They know who you are?" I asked him, trying desperately to think of a way that he could still come with us. He nodded solemnly.

                "They do. That's why I cannot go with you. They would..." He sighed heavily, but I understood what he was trying to say. "Now do you still think you understand what I'm going through?" There was a certain bitterness in his tone, and I flinched a bit.

                "I know exactly how you feel," I mumbled, gazing into the fire and thinking that perhaps I might be in danger as well if I went to the Varden.

                "How could you?" he asked. "You once said that if I told you what I was hiding, that you would tell me why the Empire is searching for you. I've told you... Now it's your turn."

                I sighed heavily, hoping in vain that he would have just forgotten about that little point. "You're right," I conceded begrudgingly. "A promise is a promise. And I've never been known to go back on one." I took a deep breath before continuing. "I was hardly aware of it myself until a few months ago. While we were still living in our home in the Spine, the soldiers came into town; they were searching for Saphira's egg, but they found me as well. It wasn't until a couple of months later that I found out why they wanted me. My mother died right after I was born, but Brom told me she had been a powerful witch in her day... and that I had inherited her powers. Galbatorix wants my abilities. That’s why I'm being hunted."

                "If you didn't know that you had these powers, how did Galbatorix find out?" he asked in confusion. I sighed once more. _Here comes the hard part._

                "He knew who I was because he knew my mother," I said slowly. I looked up at Murtagh and saw a look of understanding pass across his face, though it was mixed with shock and horror. "He's my father, Murtagh." This last part I mumbled to myself, but I knew he had heard me.

                "What!" he exclaimed, his voice raw with shock. "That's not possible." He shook his head vehemently, but I saw in his eyes he knew I spoke the truth. After all, who in their right mind would lie about that?

                "It's true," I continued, uselessly reassuring him. "He killed my mother when I was a baby, but she got me safely to Brom before she died. Brom took me back to Carvahall, where she was from, and the king didn't find me until fifteen years later." He exhaled his breath long and slow, contemplating all I had told him.

                "I had no idea... I didn't realize that we had so much in common," he muttered quietly, a bitter edge to his deep voice.

                "I wish it had not come to this. You cannot tell Eragon; he doesn't know. If he knew, he'd hate me forever… and I couldn't stand that."

                "I promise, I won't tell him," he replied, gazing into my eyes. "But Tabatha... You do realize that if your father really is Galbatorix, then you're in greater danger going to the Varden than I am... don't you? They'll kill you on sight if they discover who you are."

                "My mind is strong. I won't let them find out. Word of me may have spread throughout the Empire, but they don't know what I am to Galbatorix... I can't abandon Eragon when he needs me most." I absentmindedly prodded the fire with a stick, watching the loose embers float slowly into the dark sky.

                "Come away with me, Tabby," he whispered suddenly. My gaze snapped over to him and I stared in confusion. "Run with me. It's not safe for either of us anywhere. Why don't we just go somewhere together?" I pondered what he said for a moment. It certainly sounded like a good idea when said aloud, but the more that I thought about it, the more I knew I couldn't do it.

                "I can't," I said softly, avoiding his grey—almost silver—eyes that so often held me captivated with their intensity. This was one moment when I could not afford to be weak and fall for his invariable charm. "I promised Eragon that I would help him on his journey. I have to stay. A promise is a promise, remember?"

                "But that was before you knew you were a princess," he retorted, not unkindly. He was right: I had literally become a different person on this journey. Never again could I be the innocent girl from Carvahall that spent her days reading and fighting with her cousins in the mud. I was now a fugitive; a princess; a sorceress... and a warrior. I couldn't go back to that person I once was.

                "No," I said firmly, resolved to stick it out until the very end. "I'm staying, Murtagh. I won't run from my fears; I won't hide from who I really am." He looked at me for a long time with a sorrowful expression on his face, but I wasn't going to give in. I had to stay; not only for Eragon, but also for myself.

                "I see," Murtagh whispered softly. "That was always the one thing that fascinated me so about you, Tabby. You have such a strength about you that you're unaware you even possess. Don't forget that." I smiled at him and nodded slightly.

                On this night, beneath the stars and the trees and the mountains that stretched towards the heavens, something had changed between Murtagh and me again... something drastic. We had something now that only the other could ever possibly understand or comprehend. It was a bond that could be torn apart with the slightest of tugs; but it was also as strong as the stone that made up these great mountains. It was more than friendship; it was the kind of bond forged between two warriors who have battled side by side, understanding each other in a way unexplainable to others. I couldn't possibly know what the future would hold, but for this instant in time, I felt that I had gained a true friend.


	20. Flight To Safety...Supposedly

 

 

                The Urgals—or as we'd found out from Saphira's observations and Murtagh's insight, they were actually Kull—had gained on us. There was no time to rest; only to run. The night was closing in, but we continued to ride faster and faster. From Eragon's constant vigil in the sky, we knew that they were right behind us... and getting closer. The horses were about to drop dead from sheer exhaustion. Not only were Murtagh and I exhausted as well from the constant riding at a breakneck pace, we also had to keep an eye on the elf; or "the burden", as I'd taken to calling her in my mind. When this is all over and she finally wakes up from her poisoned sleep, I'm going to give Eragon a piece of my mind for strapping us with her! Our pace was relentless, but we finally made it to the mouth of the valley that would lead us to the Varden.

                "The Kull aren't far behind!" Eragon shouted as he and Saphira landed in a clearing. "How's the elf?" Does it look like we care? We have to keep moving! After Murtagh had relayed the stupid elf's condition, we continued on at our original speed. The trees whipped by my face, their branches splitting open the skin of my cheeks, but I paid it no mind. The only thing I was concerned with was making it to the Varden and escaping these Urgals with my life... and in one piece.

                When we stopped again to meet Eragon and Saphira, he'd informed us that we'd gained a bit of a lead. Apparently, they'd been dropping boulders from the sky to slow them down. Good, now we can finally rest a bit.

                "Is there any way out of the valley for me?" Murtagh asked impatiently. In our haste to save our own lives, I'd forgotten entirely that Murtagh meant to leave us once we reached the Varden. I felt the blood rushing through my veins growing warmer and speeding its way to my chest, my heart beating faster.

                "Well," Eragon began slowly, "it's possible that I could have missed something... but no." Murtagh exhaled roughly in anger.

                "You've led me into a trap!" he exclaimed. "You knew the way to the Varden, and yet you still brought me here!"

                "I only knew the end destination, not what lay in between. You cannot blame me for this," Eragon retorted. "Why don't you want to go to the Varden anyways? We're going to have to resolve this sometime, why not now?" Murtagh turned away and I felt a tightening in my chest. I knew how he was feeling, and I was hurting just as badly as he must have been.

                "I might as well tell you." His voice was barely audible over the roar of a nearby waterfall. "You have a right to know," he said. Slowly, Murtagh turned to face us, his eyes flicking to me first. I saw the pain welling up in his face, and how it was killing him to tell this part of his history. "I... I am the son of Morzan: first and last of the Forsworn." There it was; now Eragon knows. As Murtagh was revealing his deepest, darkest secret I couldn't help but feel guilty that I hadn't trusted Eragon with my own secret.

                I glanced over at Eragon's face and saw the utterly flabbergasted look that it held. He looked over at me as Saphira suddenly appeared at his side. "Why don't you look as shocked as I feel?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

                "Because I already knew," I admitted. His look of shock only magnified. He turned his gaze back to Murtagh as Saphira growled threateningly at him. If this was how they were reacting to Murtagh's secret, I can't begin to imagine how they'll react to mine.

                "Morzan?" Eragon asked incredulously. "This is impossible! The Forsworn never had any children."

                "My father hid me from the world," he replied, his voice sounding utterly helpless.

                "How can I believe you?" Eragon asked skeptically.

                "I can't prove anything to you now. Just wait until we get to the Varden. They'll recognize me soon enough." When Murtagh said that, I had to stop and wonder if the Varden would recognize me as well. If they know my identity, I could be in greater danger than I thought.

                "Then... You are his heir?" Eragon questioned.

                "I didn't choose this!" Murtagh cried out desperately. He tugged at the collar of his tunic, lifting it up over his head to reveal his bare torso. "Look!" He turned and showed us his back, where I could just make out the scar I'd seen before. Eragon inched closer to inspect it and sucked in his breath at the sight of the horrid disfigurement.

                I couldn't help but remember when I'd first seen it, and wondered at how it had come to be there. Now it was all making sense. "See that?" Murtagh demanded bitterly. "I was only three when I got it." _Three? What kind of a father would do that to his own child?_ "During one of his many drunken rages, Morzan threw his sword at me. My back was laid open by the very sword you now carry—the only thing I ever expected to receive as an inheritance, until Brom stole it from my father's corpse. I was lucky, I suppose—there was a healer nearby who kept me from dying. You must understand. I hold no love for the Empire or the king. I have no allegiance to them, and I mean you no harm!" His pleas were becoming frantic; I wanted desperately to run over to him, to reassure him that everything would be okay.

                Quickly, Murtagh pulled his shirt back over his head as Eragon conversed with Saphira, no doubt trying to decide if they could still trust him. I was beginning to grow antsy as we stood here in the clearing. The company of Kull wouldn't be far behind. Suddenly, I heard the crackling of branches breaking and the undeniable pounding of heavy feet.

                "I hate to interrupt," I said, stepping between the two men, "but we have to keep moving. They'll be closing in on us any second." We hurried over to the horses and began to run frantically, crashing through the trees.

                There were only two small strips of rock-covered land around the edge of the lake. That would be our path to the waterfall that lay on the other side. But the rocks were slippery and my legs ached from exhaustion. Yet I had to keep moving. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Kull pouring out of the trees and charging around both sides of the lake. They were going to head us off at the waterfall! A rush of energy flooded my body and I could feel my feet moving faster beneath me.

                As the Kull continued to grow closer, Saphira suddenly dove into the lake. She stuck her head out of the water and began attacking the monstrous creatures, buying us precious time. Eragon ran up to the cliff face near the waterfall and began beating on it wildly with a rock, screaming words in the ancient language that I did not understand. _What is he doing? We don't have time for this! We need to be figuring out how to get to the Varden!_

                "Any more ingenious ideas?" I asked him sarcastically when he returned to where Murtagh and I stood on the rocky shore. He simply sneered at me for a moment.

                "I don't know what's wrong," he replied. Saphira suddenly came up out of the water onto the shore and stood in front of us, shielding our party from the oncoming barrage of arrows. Eragon looked up at Saphira and an expression of fury came over his face. "Damn!" he cursed, fists clenching at his sides. "We're on the wrong side of the lake! We've got to get to the other side!"

                "And just how do you suggest we do that?" I exclaimed in anger.

                "The waterfall!" Murtagh offered, grabbing Tornac's reins and making his way towards the gushing stream of water. "We have to go through it!" I didn't have any better ideas—and Eragon certainly didn't—so we followed him. Eragon kept close to Saphira while I led the other two horses and the elf. Eragon forced the horses to go first and then Murtagh dove under the raging torrent of water. With as much hesitation as time would allow, I jumped into the frigid pool before me.

                The icy water felt like thousands of needles stabbing my skin, shocking the breath out of me. I squeezed my eyes against the pain, becoming lost in darkness and cold. Struggling against the pounding water above me, my head finally breached the surface. My eyes flew open as blessed air filled my lungs and I coughed forcefully, feeling the icy water still in my chest. And then I noticed the strange scene unfolding around me. Warriors and archers surrounded the pool of water, shooting and hacking down the Kull that had followed us. A little ways away on the shore, I saw Murtagh struggling to his feet.

                "Murtagh!" I called helplessly, still coughing water out of my lungs. My clothes had grown heavy, and I felt as though I was sinking back down to the frigid, dark depths where only death awaited. "Murtagh!" My head dipped below the water and bobbed back up. "Help!" He finally looked over, eyes going wide as he saw me struggling. I tried to push my arms forward to swim to shore, but the weight of my clothes would not allow it. My arms flung about wildly, thrashing the water into white foam.

                "Tabatha!" I heard him scream. My head dipped below the water again, but this time it didn't come back up. Everything was quiet here in the icy pool, and this time my eyes remained open. I could see clearly the bodies of men and Kull alike falling into the water near me. The breath was leaving my body slowly in tiny bubbles, but I was strangely at peace. If this was to be the way I would die, at least it would be in silence.

 

* * *

 

                Screams of war assaulted my ears once more. The water churned all around me and the shouts of pain and fear echoed off the stone walls of the alcove. My eyes flickered halfway open and I saw the pool of water retreating from me. Strong hands were locked under my arms, dragging me out of the freezing water. My teeth began to chatter and my fingers were going numb. _What's happening?_

                The arms laid me down on the rocky shore and I saw a shadow moving above me. But the edges of my vision were going black, the world closing in around me. _I couldn't breathe!_ Frantically, I tried to draw in a breath, but I found I couldn't move either; my body had gone numb. I saw Murtagh's face appear in front of me, and his mouth moved, looking like he said my name, but I could hear nothing of his voice. He pressed his hands together and began pushing down on my chest, rocking my body back and forth violently. Then his face came down to meet my own and I felt his lips touch mine. _What's going on?_ He went back to pushing on my chest, and I saw the frantic look in his eyes. Once more, his lips meet mine, and I suddenly felt air rush into my lungs.

                Eyes flying open and arms flailing wildly, a rush of water came out of my throat, splashing against the rocks. I coughed forcefully, getting any more of the water out of my chest. I felt Murtagh's hand resting comfortingly on my back.

                "Tabby!" he exclaimed, leaning his face down to mine. "Are you all right?"

                I wiped little droplets of water away from my mouth and looked up at him, his hair sopping wet and dripping into his face. "You saved my life," I whispered. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him close to me, feeling his arms wrap around my waist. And then I began to cry—no, sob—uncontrollably. I was so frightened that I was about to die.

                "It's okay, Tabby," he said soothingly, holding me tighter. "You're safe now." Finally, the sobs that wracked my chest subsided and I pulled away from him. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the entire party of Kull was dead, and Eragon and Saphira stood near the human warriors on the rocky shore.

                "What's happening?"

                "The Varden..." he replied bitterly. A large man, clad in iron armor, strode over to us with a wide gait. He bent down and gathered up a handful of my tunic, hauling me to my feet with a rough pull.

                "Hey!" I cried indignantly, trying to pull away from him. Murtagh had jumped to his feet to try and come to my aid, but a short, ugly, bald man came up behind him and produced a dagger at his throat. What's going on here? I looked over and saw Eragon standing there helplessly next to a creature I never thought I'd live to see: a dwarf.

                "Quickly! Inside!" the bald man barked viciously. He drug Murtagh roughly away as the large soldier holding me unceremoniously picked me up and carried me off.

                We were led through two huge stone doors in the side of the cliff. Small blue lanterns on the walls cast an eerie light through the cavern, and a little ways down the tunnel, we veered off to the right into a huge room where Saphira could easily move around. The big, brute of a man was still holding tightly to my arms, and the bald man handed Murtagh off to another soldier, the knife remaining at his throat. The bald man turned his attention to Eragon.

                "To ensure that you are truly not a threat to us, you will be tested," he said. His voice made me shudder; it sounded like nails against stone. Something was definitely strange about this man.

                "You don't understand! There's an elf, and she's very sick!" Eragon exclaimed. I had to fight the urge to roll my eyes.

                "It must wait!" the bald man snapped. "We must determine if you are trustworthy."

                "But she's dying! If she isn't treated immediately she won't survive!" Eragon's voice had become shrill and pleading. The bald man began to say something, but he was cut off by a rough and growling voice.

                "Ajihad will have your head if you don't get this elf treated," the dwarf barked. "You almost let them die too! This is ridiculous!" The bald man pursed his lips, but finally turned back to Eragon.

                "Very well," he seethed. "You two, get her down and take her to the healers." He gestured to two younger soldiers, and they hurried toward Snowfire to unstrap her from the saddle.

                "She needs Tunivor's Nectar," Eragon said, his tone sounding relieved. "It's the only thing that can save her." The two men took the elf down and carried her away. I would be lying if I said I wasn't happy to be rid of her finally.

                "Now that that's out of the way," the bald man continued in a low voice, "you must be tested."

                "What do you mean?" Eragon spat back.

                "I will simply look into your mind and see if you can be trusted," he growled. It took him a few moments, but Eragon finally conceded. The bald man put his filthy hand on Eragon's head, and immediately his face contorted into a look of excruciating pain. The bald man continued his agonizing evaluation for a few more minutes, and then finally removed his hands, a scowl upon his face. The dwarf spoke up.

                "Well? Can he be trusted?" the little bearded man said. It seemed like it killed him to say it, but the ugly man deemed he was trustworthy.

                My heart skipped a few beats when he turned to Murtagh and me _. What if I couldn't keep him from finding out my secret? What's going to happen to me!_ While I was dealing with my dilemma internally, the bald man slowly made his way towards Murtagh, his eyes glinting wickedly in the light from the blue lanterns.

                "Your turn," he said wickedly. Murtagh shook his head, causing the knife to cut into his skin. "You will not consent to be tested?"

                "No." A trickle of blood ran down his skin.

                "You will not be protected here if you refuse."

                "My mind is my only sanctuary. I will let no man enter it," he replied darkly. The bald man sneered wickedly.

                "You don't have a choice!" he cried, launching toward him and forcefully putting a hand on Murtagh's forehead, digging his dirty, grimy fingernails into his skin.

                It was unbearable to see the anguish and pain that Murtagh was going through, and he cried out several times. "Stop it!" I screamed, trying to yank my arms out of the strong man's hold. "Leave him be!" I pulled harder this time, feeling my arms slipping out of his grasp. Suddenly, two more men were in front of me, trying to contain my attempted escape.

                Flexing my arms, I was able to kick my legs up into the air and hook my feet around each of their necks. And before they knew what was happening, I forced their iron-clad heads together, dropping them to the ground. The action surprised the man holding me so much that he momentarily relaxed his grip on my arms. Turning rapidly, I placed my hands on his wide shoulders and brought my knee up forcefully, feeling it connect with his groin. The man doubled over and hit the floor with a thud.

                "Enough!" the dwarf snapped, stopping the other soldiers that were coming towards me and pulling the bald man away from Murtagh with a surprising show of strength. "This is outrageous! Ajihad would never condone this action! Whether you like it or not, you still answer to him! You tested the Rider and found him trustworthy. If these people are with him then they can be trusted as well!" The bald man started to argue, but the dwarf cut him off in a strange language. "Now be gone, all of you!" The soldiers stood for a moment, sharing confused glances amongst themselves. But when the bald man sullenly left, they followed him out.

                The dwarf turned back to us when everyone was finally gone. "I’ll make sure food is brought," he growled.

                "Thank you," Eragon said as the dwarf turned and left, the door slamming hollowly behind him.

                I leaned my back against the stone wall and slowly slid down, finally plopping onto the floor to rest my arms against my knees. Murtagh and Eragon joined me, both of them heaving sighs of relief that it was finally over. But I had a sneaking suspicion we weren't out of the clear yet. I looked at Murtagh where he sat to my right and saw him pressing his sleeve to his neck, trying to staunch the bleeding from the wound.

                "Are you all right, Murtagh?" I asked quietly. His gaze flickered over at me but then returned to staring straight ahead.

                "It's a shallow wound. I'll be fine," he replied.

                "That isn't what I meant."

                He finally looked at me, his grey eyes as hard as stone. "That bastard didn't get anything from me. I have trained for many years to protect myself against more powerful magicians than him. They'll have to do better than that to extract anything from my mind," he said bitterly. I reached over and placed a hand on his knee, not daring to say anything. He put his rough, calloused hand on top of mine but didn't say anything either. I noticed Eragon watching us curiously out of the corner of his eyes.

                Being so close to having my secret revealed, I was beginning to see how dangerous this place really is. I thought that maybe I could be safe here, but am I? Can I be safe anywhere within the confines of my father's Empire?


	21. And So It Comes To This

 

   The sound of stone crashing together woke me in the morning. Damn you people! Can't a girl get some sleep around here! But I suddenly remembered where I was, and a feeling of dread filled my heart. I raised my head and saw the ugly bald man walking towards us across the chamber. I'd fallen asleep with my head on Murtagh's shoulder, and I looked over to see that he was already awake, staring at the bald man with a look of hatred. Eragon stood up on my left.

   "You have been summoned by Ajihad," the bald man said, "leader of the Varden. If you must eat, do so while we march." I couldn't refrain the scoff that escaped my lips. It should have been common knowledge that we would need to eat. He shot me a withering glance but said nothing more.

   "Where are our horses?" Eragon inquired, always the obnoxious one. "And can I have my sword and bow back?" The bald man sneered at him.

   "Your weapons will return to you when Ajihad sees fit, not before. As for your horses, they await you in the tunnel. Now come!" he snapped, turning quickly on his heels. Murtagh stood and then reached down a hand, helping me to my feet. We walked slowly out of the chamber into the corridor we'd come from before.

   "How is Arya?" Eragon asked. I wanted to slap him right then and there, but I held back.

   "I do not know," the bald man said hesitantly. "The healers are still with her." As we continued to walk, I noticed statues of strange animals set into alcoves all along the wall. There was a statue of one creature that looked like a wolf, but it was huge and feral-looking. What strange place is this? Finally, we came to the huge tunnel where we'd come into the mountain. I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw the bald man with the horses. Where is Cadoc?

   "Eragon?" I whispered quietly, looking over at him. He made to speak, but then stopped. "Eragon, where is Cadoc?"

   "Tabby... I meant to tell you last night, but he didn't make it. An arrow caught him in the side..." I turned my face away as I felt the tears coming to my eyes. After going through so much along this journey with the faithful horse by my side, it had ripped a hole in my heart to hear that he had been slain. But before I could grieve, the bald man spoke again.

   "You will ride single file down the center of the tunnel," he instructed. "If you attempt to go anywhere else, you will be stopped." Eragon made to crawl into Saphira's saddle, but the bald man stopped him. "No!" he screeched. "You will ride your horse until I tell you otherwise."

   "There aren't enough," Eragon retorted.

   "I am aware, boy. We found the body of the other horse on the lake shore. You, girl," he snapped at me tersely, "come here. You will ride with this one." He narrowed his eyes in Murtagh's direction.

   "I have a name, you know," I spat venomously as I climbed into Tornac's saddle. "And so does he."

   "Oh yes, I know," he seethed, a sickening grin splitting his face, "I just don't _care_." I wanted to rip his throat out, but one glance from Murtagh silenced my rage. Murtagh climbed up into the saddle behind me, reaching around to take the reins from my hands. His body pressed against mine as he reached forward, and I felt myself shudder slightly.

   ' _Your life is on the line and you're really thinking about that?'_ I thought to myself. Saphira rumbled behind me, and I could only assume she was laughing because she heard what I said. I'd have to be more careful with my thoughts around her. Eragon pulled himself into Snowfire's saddle in front of us and the dwarf and the bald man led our procession. Murtagh gave me a comforting squeeze around the waist.

   As we rode, I couldn't help but marvel at the skill with which this tunnel had been mined. The dwarves truly were as gifted as the stories say. We continued through this gigantic tunnel for nearly an hour. And after riding for so long, I was becoming tired. My anxiety was rising out of fear that Ajihad, the leader of the Varden, would recognize who I was, which only served to sap my strength even more. Murtagh must have sensed my apprehension.

   "We'll be okay Tabatha," he whispered in my ear, leaning into my back. I turned my face slightly towards him. "No matter what happens, I won't let them hurt you." I nodded to show him my thanks and turned forward. The tunnel was beginning to change, and a colossal black door marked the end of it. We stopped in front of the door and the bald man turned to speak to Eragon.

   "You will ride upon your dragon now. Do not attempt to fly away. There will be people watching, so remember who and what you are." This bald man really was—as Murtagh so eloquently put it—a bastard. There was no way Eragon would just abandon Murtagh and me... would he? I watched as he dismounted Snowfire and climbed up into Saphira's saddle, using her muscled foreleg. I could tell that this was all just a ploy to show them off, but did Eragon see that too? Hopefully he wouldn't make too much of a fool out of himself.

   "I'm ready," Eragon said, rolling his shoulders backwards.

   "Good," the bald man said, something insidious in his voice. There was just something about this bald man that put me on edge and made me feel very... uncomfortable. No, that wasn't the right word. It was more a feeling of being watched. Suddenly, the huge doors began to open, snapping me out of my thoughts. Once they were open completely, we made our way through them into a huge chamber.

   It was actually a massive volcanic chamber, empty of all magma, of course. There was a narrow hole at the top so high above us that it was unfathomable to think that Eragon and Saphira could ever fly that high. Once I lowered my gaze I could see that we were riding along a cobblestoned street that led straight from the door to a glittering, white mountain in the center of the empty volcano. I could hear the dwarf saying something to Eragon about the mountain being called Farthen Dur, and the little white mountain-city being called Tronjheim, but I could barely hear any more of his explanations.

   We finally reached the base of the mountain-city and went through those doors as well. A deafening cheer reached our ears as they opened and the people saw Saphira. Eragon was waving like some sort of celebrity, and I was sure he was enjoying all the attention. I giggled at him; savoring possibly the last moment of joy I would be experiencing for a long while. When the Varden found out about me—for they most assuredly would—I was doomed. They'd probably torture me for information that I didn't have; that, or they'd just kill me. I'm not quite sure which one would be worse at the moment.

   Our party suddenly stopped as a woman stood next to Saphira, holding up a baby to Eragon. He reached down to the baby, placing his hand on the child's forehead and saying some words in the ancient language. A white light flashed and everyone cheered as the woman took the baby away. I saw the bald man sneering at Eragon over his shoulder, but we continued on. Everyone stared at Murtagh and I with puzzled expressions, but their gazes didn't linger for very long. Everyone was too concerned with the amazing sight of a huge, sapphire-colored dragon.

   "This is humiliating," Murtagh muttered behind me.

   "It's almost done," I said reassuringly, taking hold of his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze.

   "It won't be quickly enough."

   We reached another door and went through, ending up in a smaller corridor, just barely wide enough for Saphira to walk. Two guards flanked the sides of the door at the end of the hall. Murtagh dropped out of Tornac's saddle first, patting the huge warhorse lovingly on his flanks. He looked up at me expectantly, apprehension clear on his face.

   "Are you ready for this?" he asked, his voice colored with worry.

   "Not remotely. Are you?"

   "Not a chance." He laughed bitterly, putting his strong hands on my waist and guiding me safely to the ground. After we'd come to our revelation that we had so much in common, he'd been acting differently towards me. And I thought it might be different in a good way...

   The bald man pulled the heavy door open and conducted everyone inside. I could feel a knot forming in my stomach as I passed through the doorframe. This is it: my final moments as a free woman.

 

 

* * *

 

 

   The room was large; it was two stories with cedar bookshelves lining the walls. A wrought-iron staircase led up to a balcony that held two chairs and a reading table. I would have loved to spend hours in this room, but I had a feeling this would be my first and only trip to the fantastic library. At the far end of the room, standing tall behind the large walnut desk, was a noble-looking man who could only be Ajihad.

   His skin was dark and gleaming—like oiled ebony—from the light emanating off the many lanterns strewn about the room. The only hair that could be seen on him resided in a closely trimmed beard that covered his chin and upper lip. He was large, by any means, but there was a certain elegance to his size that I'd never seen before. There was only one word I could think to describe him: exotic. When he spoke, his voice was strong; confident; unwavering.

   "Welcome to Tronjheim, Eragon and Saphira. I am Ajihad. Please, seat yourselves." He spoke as though Murtagh and I didn't even exist, which irked me slightly. We all strode forward and took seats in the large armchairs that were in front of the desk. Saphira stood behind us protectively. Suddenly, Ajihad snapped his fingers and I thought for a moment that I was seeing double.

   "I can understand your confusion. They are twin brothers," he explained as two ugly bald men walked into the study. "I would tell you their names, but they have none." _What? What kind of a person doesn't have a name?_ The Twins went to stand in a dark corner as Ajihad took his seat behind the desk, resting in a plush-looking armchair. He just sat there for a moment, staring us down. Pretty soon, it was making me extremely uncomfortable. What was he looking for?

   Finally, his gaze rested on me, and something flashed in his eyes. He stared at me for a long time and then I knew: _I was done for_. He shifted his eyes to Murtagh and scrutinized him as well, before beckoning for the Twins to come over. One of them shuffled to his side and bent low so Ajihad could whisper in his ear. The bald man paled and shook his head. Slowly, the dark-skinned man turned his head back to Murtagh and me.

“You both have put me in a difficult position,” he said slowly, his dark gaze passing between us. “You, young man, refused to let your mind be examined. And you, young lady, were simply overlooked in the chaos. Now, will you consent to the inspection?” I stared at him with a look of anguish upon my voice and shook my head vigorously. Murtagh just remained silent, his face completely impassive. Ajihad sighed heavily, and I noticed Eragon staring at me in confusion. Of course he wouldn't understand why I didn't want my mind searched… “As long as you two refuse to consent, you cannot be trusted,” he continued. I couldn't help thinking that they wouldn't trust me anyways.

“You wouldn't trust me anyways,” Murtagh muttered, echoing my thoughts.

“Stop it,” I hissed quietly, imploring him not to give anything away. Ajihad’s face snapped towards me, and I realized I should have just kept my big mouth shut.

“You…” he breathed, slowly standing up and pointing a long finger at me. “I know that face…” Dread filled my heart as I felt it drop into my stomach. My breathing quickened and the pounding of my heartbeat filled my ears. Ajihad’s gaze slid over to Murtagh. “And you… Though it has been twenty-three years since it last broke upon my ear… I know that voice.” This is it.

I looked over at Murtagh, tears brimming in my eyes. He turned his head to me and I grabbed his hand, giving it a tight squeeze. It’s just us against them now. “Stay near me,” he whispered. I nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Though it came from a different man. One more beast than human,” he continued, realization filling his eyes. He looked to me and narrowed them once more. “What is your name, girl?” How could I answer him? What do I do? If I don’t comply, he’ll only suspect me of hiding something more; if I do tell him my name, he’ll certainly know who I am. Either way, I was going to lose. In a last act of desperation, I looked over at Eragon. But I only saw the look of horror and confusion upon his face.

I wanted him to help me; stick up for me; something! But instead, he did the one thing I didn't want him to. “Tabatha?” he breathed quietly. My heart broke into a thousand pieces at the feeling of utter betrayal I heard in his voice.

“It is you!” Ajihad bellowed. “Guards, seize her!” I instinctively jumped up as the soldiers filed towards me, one of them pinning my arms behind my back and tying them with a heavy rope so I had no chance of escape. I struggled against the ropes, but in vain. There was no chance of getting away. “You thought you could come here to tear us apart from the inside out!” the dark-skinned man screamed in a blind rage. Murtagh was being detained by the soldiers right now, and Eragon was on his feet, staring blankly in confusion. Saphira growled low in her chest, but there was nothing she could do without making them think we were all traitors.

“No!” I screamed in desperation, still trying to pull away from my captor. “It isn't like that!” I looked around the room, frantically searching for a helpful gaze. But the only one I found was Murtagh’s.

“Tabby?” Eragon said weakly, his dark eyes pleading with me helplessly. “What’s going on?” I wished desperately that there was something I could say, but no words came to my tongue. How could I make him understand?

“She,” Ajihad spat, his finger still pointing at me accusingly, “is Galbatorix’s daughter; a traitor; and a spy!” Eragon’s face was frozen in horror as the words came out of Ajihad’s mouth. “She and Morzan’s son are working together to reveal our location to the Empire!”

“No. Eragon,” I whispered pleadingly, “it’s not like he says. Please, just let me explain!” My voice grew louder with every word, but Eragon just continued to stare in shock. The tears were now flowing in a torrent down my face, blurring my vision.

“Take them away and lock them in windowless rooms! Bar the doors securely!” he ordered the soldiers. The man who held me pulled on my bound arms, dragging me towards the door. Eragon just stood there and did nothing!

“No!” I screamed, fighting the soldier every step of the way. The man was struggling too to keep me in his control, but he was still stronger. “Eragon, please! Don’t let them do this! You know I would never betray you! Eragon!!” I watched in despair as he slowly turned his back on me. Murtagh and I were dragged out of the room, the heavy oaken door slamming shut with a resounding thud.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Ajihad told the men to lock us in windowless rooms─which they did─but they were too incompetent not to put us in rooms right next to one another. On top of that, there were vents at the bottom of the wall, so we could speak back and forth. But before I talked to Murtagh, I sat down on the small bed and buried my face in my hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I should have just told Eragon the truth from the beginning! Then it wouldn't have been so heartbreaking to see the look of betrayal on my best friend’s face. When my tears were spent, I slid down along the wall and sat next to the vent.

“Murtagh,” I called softly, my voice cracking a bit. My throat was raw from crying, but I was too upset to care about the pain.

“I’m here, Tabby.” The walls weren't very thick, so it sounded like he was sitting right next to me. “I’m sorry that Eragon had to find out like that; it was horrible what Ajihad accused you of.”

“What he accused you of too.”

He laughed sharply. “I’m used to it. After a lifetime of being known as the son of Morzan, you get used to people expecting the worst from you.” I pondered that a moment, and wondered how different my life would have been had I been raised by my father.

“He’s going to hate me, isn't he? He’ll never forgive me. Not after I lied to him for so long,” I said morosely.

“Eragon will understand, Tabatha,” he replied. “It may take him some time, but he’ll come around. Have faith in him.” I scoffed slightly at that.

“Would you forgive me, Murtagh, were you in his place? After I’d lied to you for months about my true identity, and that your mortal enemy is actually my father?” I spat, my voice sounding harsh to my own ears. I couldn't help the ire that had risen up inside me.

“Yes,” he replied shortly. I started at that, flinching a bit. How could he?

“Well,” I said slowly, “that’s just because you’re a good person.”

There was only silence from the other side of the vent for a moment, and I wondered if our conversation was at an end. “I’m not a good person, Tabatha,” he breathed quietly, his voice filled with an emotion I could not place. “I've done terrible things in my past; things that can never be atoned for. If you only knew… Well, let’s just say you wouldn't speak so kindly of me.”

“We all have regrets.” I waited to see if he would say more; give me any more insight into his past. But he remained quiet.

“Do yours keep you up with night terrors?” His tone had suddenly turned darker; more hostile.

“No, they do not.” I shook my head out of habit. “But the thing about regrets is that there aren't different levels to them. It doesn't matter what you've done, all regrets are equal in the end. What keeps me up at night may seem trivial to you, and vice versa. In the sight of the gods, all transgressions hold the same weight on the scales of judgement.”

“The gods…” Murtagh scoffed, and I heard him shuffling slightly. “I fear the gods may have abandoned me long ago.” I turned my head toward the vent.

“We are never forsaken,” I breathed quietly. “Some trials are meant to test our fortitude, so we come out stronger on the other side. And others are meant solely to break us; to make us completely new. As for me… Well, I think I've been broken…”

“You’re one of the strongest people I have known, Tabatha,” he said. I gave a small smile at that.

“I need to tell you something, Murtagh.” I waited to see if he would reply, but he seemed to be waiting on me to continue. Taking a deep breath, I chanced voicing the thoughts that had weighed heavily on my mind over the past few days. “I have treated you wrongly, and for that I am truly ashamed. From the very beginning, I misjudged you, and treated you accordingly without any just cause. I ask your forgiveness. And I wanted you to know that I count you as a true friend, Murtagh.”

He was quiet for a long time, but I thought I could feel his smile through the wall that separated us. “Thank you, Tabby,” he breathed. I heard him lay his head against the wall with a thump. “I hope I can continue to earn that title.”

I smirked at that and felt a fluttering in my chest, glad to have told him. “It’s been a long day,” I continued. “We should rest. Who knows what kind of torture they’ll subject us to in the morning.”

“Rest well, Tabatha,” he replied. I heard him get up from the floor, quickly followed by the squeaking of the wooden bed frame as he sat upon his mattress. I followed suit, crawling beneath the blanket that covered the mattress and squeezing my eyes shut. At least I wouldn't be completely alone in this endeavor to prove I wasn't a traitor.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eragon’s POV

 

How can this be happening? It can’t be true… Tabatha has been my best friend my entire life; she can’t be the daughter of the king. Wouldn't I have known if she was a traitor? Or have I been blinded? No, she is not my enemy. She’s my Tabatha… It can’t be true! But no matter how much I tried to convince myself of the falsehood, I knew deep in my heart that it was true. Saphira only confirmed it. How could I have missed something like this?

 _‘It isn't your fault, Eragon. Stop punishing yourself,’_  Saphira chastised quietly as she turned and circled before settling down in one of the huge nests of the Dragon Hold. Her sapphire scales glittered with a strange light as the red reflections off of Isidar Mithrim bounced off her body.

 _‘I can’t help it,’_ I continued, lying on the cot next to her. _‘I just can’t believe I didn't see it before.’_

 _‘Don’t be too hard on her,’_ she said, sleep evident in her voice. _‘She wanted to tell you. But she was terrified you would act the way you did tonight.’_

‘ _What do you mean_ “the way I acted tonight” _? I did nothing!'_  I exclaimed.

‘ _That is the point, little one. You did nothing to help her when she was begging you to. I’m simply asking you to keep an open mind… and to talk to her about this. She is your best friend, after all...’_ I sighed heavily, looking up at the stone ceiling and mulling over my thoughts.

 _‘I don’t know when I’ll be ready to talk to her. I’m still so angry she’s been lying to me the whole time… Saphira? Hello?’_ She was already snoring peacefully, so I let her be. I don’t know what to do. How can I look at her the same ever again? I had thought coming here would make us safe. But nothing has turned out the way I had planned.


	22. Certain Complications

Eragon's POV

Slowly, I exhaled the breath I'd been holding, letting the act calm me before I went into the study. This would be an interesting conversation.

 _'Don't worry; it will be fine. You're doing the right thing,'_ Saphira said, trying to reassure me. I nodded and thanked her before going through the doors. The guards stared blankly ahead, pretending not to see me. Ajihad looked up at me from behind his desk, his brow furrowed like it was yesterday.

He stood up slowly. "Please sit down." His voice was hard, like iron, and I felt my heart beating faster from my nervous energy.

"Thank you," I replied, sitting in the same arm chair I'd taken the night before.

"I understand that you wanted to speak to me," he continued, his voice deep and gravelly. I could tell immediately that he knew what this was about.

"Yes, I... I wanted to speak to you about what happened last night." His face darkened at my mention of the incident, and I began to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"I see," he said quietly. "Go on."

I took another deep breath, hesitating slightly. "As you may now," I began, "I was unaware of Tabatha's true identity until last night when you... revealed her. But you see we grew up together; we... were best friends. I don't believe for a moment that she was ever trying to spy for the Empire; after all, I did not become a Rider until a few short months ago, yet she has been my friend all my life." I had thought long and hard last night to come to this conclusion, but it was the only thing that made any sense. Galbatorix couldn't have known I would become a Rider, so he wouldn't have had the foresight to plant a spy in my life. This was just some cruel twist of fate meant to tear us apart. But I wasn't going to let that happen...

"So what would you like me to do?" he questioned.

"I would like to speak to her; let her explain herself. Even though I don't believe she was ever intent on betraying me, she did still lie to me. And I need to know why." He stared at his hands where they were folded on the desk for a long while, face scrunched in contemplation.

After another few minutes, he looked up at me with his dark eyes. "I understand what you have said," he replied slowly. "And I will allow you to speak with her. But she cannot be released. The risk she and Morzan's son present is still too great."

"I accept your judgment. Thank you," I said, standing up. Saphira exhaled forcefully behind me, a little bout of smoke coming out of her nose.

He nodded. "A guard will take you to where she is being held." I opened the door to the hall, thanked him once more, and then followed the guard in front of me, Saphira trailing close behind.

 _'Do you want me to come with you, little one?'_ Saphira asked, nudging me lightly with her shoulder.

 _'No, I need to do this on my own,'_ I remarked, not unkindly. She grunted softly to say she understood.

_'Hold your temper, Eragon. She was frightened. Everyone does things out of fear that they wouldn't otherwise.'_

_'I can't make any promises.'_ My chest was beginning to tighten.

 _'Just remember: Are you willing to forego your friendship over this matter? I cannot tell you what to do, little one,'_ she said softly. _'But just keep that in mind.'_ She left me them, heading off to the dragon hold. I was on my own now, to decide the fate of my future with the only girl I'd ever loved... but that I feared I was losing to another…

* * *

Tabatha's POV

I'd woken a couple of hours ago, but it was impossible to tell what time of day or night it was in this prison cell. I imagined it wasn't very easy out there inside the mountain either. My morning—or whatever it was—had consisted of staring at the wall, replaying the horrible scene from last night over and over again in my mind's eye. Why had Eragon just stood there and done nothing? Even though I'd lied to him, he didn't really think I was here to betray him... did he? And if he did, then I didn't see how I was going to survive much longer. They were going to execute me, and probably Murtagh as well. It seemed we had come here to die together.

A knock at the door suddenly startled me out of my thoughts. Who could that be? If it was a guard, he would have just come right in. And if it was Ajihad... I dreaded to think what would happen next. Then came another knock. "Tabby?" I heard someone call. My heart dropped into my stomach... _Eragon._ "May I come in?" he asked. Slowly, I stood up off my bed, staring with wide eyes at the door. What am I going to say? What is _he_ going to say?

"Of course," I called softly. The guard outside the door unlocked it and let Eragon in. The soldier flashed a glance at me, eyes narrowed in scrutiny. Eragon assured him I wasn't a threat, and he finally conceded to close the door. With the hollow slamming of the door came an eerie silence within my prison. I looked down at my feet awkwardly, folding my hands in front of me. I was too ashamed to look Eragon in the eye. Finally, he spoke first.

"Tabatha," he began slowly, "is it true what Ajihad says? You didn't deny it yesterday... I have to know." I kept my eyes averted, but I nodded my head slightly.

"Yes," I whispered. "Galbatorix is my father." There was a long silence on his part after that. But what more could I say? I heard a bit of shuffling on the other side of the wall, and I knew that Murtagh was listening. What a lousy little snoop he is...

"Why?" he finally said, his voice choking up a bit, and I knew he was trying to restrain tears. "Why didn't you tell me?" I finally found the courage to look at him, balking at the look of desolation on his face.

"How could I, Eragon? After what happened last night, how could I even think of telling you that your sworn enemy is my father?" I was trying to hold back my anger and frustration. "Your reaction would have been pyroclastic. Nothing I could have said would have made you believe that I meant you no ill will."

"You don't know that!" he protested.

"Can you say with certainty that you would have believed me?" I countered. He clamped his mouth shut, unable to reply to that; only confirming what I already knew to be true. "That's what I thought."

"Still, you should have been honest with me," he mumbled. "I can't say how I would have reacted, but I wish you would have just told me the truth." He paused here for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Is Ajihad also correct when he says you and Murtagh are spying for the Empire?" I felt my face growing hot with anger as I glared at him.

"How could you say such a thing?" I seethed, coming closer to him. "I only found out he was my father a few months ago when Brom told me! You are my best friend Eragon! I would never do that to _anyone_ , let alone _you_! It wasn't my decision who my father was. He tricked my mother into believing he was someone else, and when she finally found out she tried to run away!" I knew it was probably wrong for me to be angry with him right now, but I couldn't help it. How could he really think that? Eragon huffed and looked away from me.

"I'm sorry, Tabatha... It's just..." He paused, looking back up at me with sad, brown eyes. "I'm still trying to absorb all of this... How can he be your father? He's never married, so far as I or anyone else knew."

"My mother was deceived by him, but he also deceived everyone else. She only found out what he truly was after I was born. She feared for my safety—and rightly so—then she gave me to Brom for safekeeping. He took me to my aunt and uncle's. Eragon, he killed my mother..."

"Are they really your aunt and uncle then?" Eragon asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

"Yes," I replied. "Horst was my mother's brother. I am sorry I lied to you, Eragon, truly. But I had to... For my safety, and for yours. Do you understand what I'm trying to say?" My tone had become pleading. This was my last chance. I needed him to forgive me, even if I was too proud to admit it. I didn't want to lose his friendship. After a moment, he looked into my eyes and began to move closer. _What is he doing?_

He moved his hand up to my face, cupping it in his palm. I was too shocked to move. Slowly, his lips brushed against mine. The room started spinning around me as I tried to comprehend what was happening. In the midst of it, I couldn't help but think how dissimilar this was from the kiss I'd shared with Murtagh. Whereas Murtagh's kiss had been full of fire and passion—stealing my breath away and making me question every belief I held about him—Eragon was soft and gentle, almost cautious—like he feared breaking me. He pulled away and then stared into my eyes, looking for some hint of my thoughts.

"Yes," he whispered finally, "I understand what you're trying to say." All I could do was stare, fearing the words that might come out of my own mouth. So Garrow had been right all along... A pounding at the door brought me out of my thoughts.

"Rider," the guard called from the hallway, "time's up!" Eragon looked over his shoulder, then back at me, and sighed.

"I'll try to come back, I promise." I nodded shortly as the guard swung the door open and beckoned him out.

"There is a dwarf here looking for you," the soldier said, aimed at Eragon. He nodded slightly and gave me one last fleeting glance before leaving. I watched him disappear around the corner, but the guard continued to stand there. Crossing my arms over my chest, I looked at him pointedly.

"Yes? Is there something you need?" I huffed.

"I'm sorry about this," he blurted out quickly, catching me somewhat off guard. "And I'm sorry about having to detain you yesterday. I was just following orders." My face grew hot with anger as I remembered how he'd drug me away and shoved me in this cell.

"It's fine," I lied. "Why are you being so kind to me?" I was curious as to his ulterior motives.

His face turned red with shame when I asked him, making him look so childish. The innocent look on his face made me soften a bit towards him. "I... Well, I just don't think you are what they say you are, that's all. A spy, I mean... I don't think you're working for your father," he stuttered.

I hummed softly to myself, still unsure of what to make of him. "What's your name, soldier?" I inquired, unfolding my arms.

"Gregorio." He smiled at me slightly. Well that was an... _interesting_ name.

"Well, Gregorio," I continued, struggling a bit with the foreign name, "I thank you for your kindness."

"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask. I'll be right outside the door."

A sharp laugh burst from my mouth. "How about getting me out of here, then?" He laughed as well.

"I'll get right on that," he said, closing the door behind him and resuming his post at the door. At least someone believed me, even if he was probably going to be the only person around here that did.

"What was that all about?" Murtagh demanded from the other side of the wall. I had completely forgotten he had been eavesdropping.

"What does it matter to you? Didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to eavesdrop?" He scoffed loudly.

"That's beside the point... Who was that you were talking to?" he inquired, quickly changing the subject.

"The guard outside my door. He seemed friendly enough."

"Hmm," he grumbled, "a little _too_ friendly for my liking." I started at that, looking towards the vent and hoping he could feel my anger seeping through.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?" I insisted, hands going involuntarily to rest on my hips.

"Not what you think it does." My heart dropped a bit at that, and all my anger dissipated immediately. Well then... that was... harsh. "I only meant that we need to be careful who we trust around here, Tabatha. Many people are going to be looking for an excuse not to trust us, and they would resort to any sort of underhanded means to lead us into a trap. _We_ know that we aren't working for the Empire, but they could twist our words to make it seem like we are. I would caution you against speaking to anyone."

"Even if it's only to claim my own innocence?"

"Even then," he replied, his voice sounding melancholy. "We are the only ones we can trust, along with Eragon. Just be on your guard, all right?"

"Very well," I groused to myself, plopping down on the straw mattress and folding my legs up. I leaned back against the wall and I heard him sit upon his bed on the other side. It seemed as though we were sitting directly back-to-back, with only the wall separating us.

"I told you that Eragon would understand and forgive you," he continued, a hint of triumph in his voice.

"Murtagh..." I started slowly, unsure of whether I should tell him what happened.

"What is it?"

"Eragon... I'm not sure he's forgiven me for the reason you think." I heard him inhale slowly. "He... well, he kissed me just now." The other side of the wall went deathly quiet, and I feared what his reaction was going to be. After a few more long, agonizing moments of silence, he spoke.

"I'm happy for you. It's been quite clear since I joined you all that he's been infatuated with you. Glad to see he finally got up the courage to tell you how he really felt." Well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

"Has it really been so obvious?" I asked timidly. _How has everyone else seen this except me?_

"Tabatha, you can't be serious!" he exclaimed. "He stares at you like a lovesick puppy every time you turn around. I'm surprised Saphira can handle it at all. It must be infuriating for her... You really had no idea?"

"I always thought everyone was just being cruel when they would tease me about it," I mused quietly, trying to decipher my own feelings. Was there a possibility that I could feel the same way? And what about Murtagh...?

"He's clearly in love with you, Tabatha," Murtagh continued quietly. "And it's easier this way."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated for a moment. "It will be easier for the Varden to trust you if you are... _with_ him. They need Eragon on their side desperately, and they'd do anything to keep him... even if it meant trusting the daughter of their sworn enemy."

"But... I don't even know if I feel the same way... Eragon is my friend; he's like my brother... I don't—"

"Think of it as a political move, Tabatha. We must all do what we have to in order to survive... That goes for me as well." His tone had gone deadly serious, and I felt a slight fluttering in my chest. Was this really what I would have to do to survive here? Was this the only path laid out before me?

* * *

We were brought a meager meal of bread and cheese for dinner. I could only assume it was nearing sundown outside of the mountain. Gregorio brought me my meal, along with some reading material he'd managed to smuggle out of the library. He laid them down on the small end table that held the single candle that lit my cell.

"Thank you," I replied gratefully. "I thought I was going to go mad in here."

"You're welcome." He smiled, making the edges of his eyes crinkle. I looked at him for a long while.

"How old are you anyways?" I asked as I chewed slowly on the tasty bread.

"I'm nineteen," he chuckled lightly. That surprised me a bit.

"You're very young to be a soldier," I observed.

"The Varden don't care about age; they look at skill and ability. I suppose they found me to be an adequate fighter," he replied, leaning on the doorframe and occasionally looking into the hallway. "My mother brought me here when I was very young—three or four, perhaps—after my father was murdered by the Empire. I grew up here, and when I was seventeen I was drafted into the army." I gazed at him for a moment before he noticed me staring. "What?" he questioned in confusion.

I shook my head slightly. "Nothing..." I said slowly. "It's just... Have we ever met before, Gregorio? I feel as if... as if I know you... somehow."

"No, I don't think so. I'm sure I would have remembered you." He looked slightly embarrassed at his admission and I just smiled at him. "I must be going," he continued. "They'll be changing shifts soon. Until tomorrow?" I nodded slightly and he hurried out the door.

"I don't trust him," Murtagh said sullenly through the vent.

"I'm not sure what to make of him either," I admitted, finishing up the last of the cheese. "Would it be better to keep him close and make him think I don't suspect anything?" Murtagh seemed to be well-versed in these sorts of matters.

"That might be a good plan," he mused to himself. "Morzan used to say: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Perhaps that was the only useful advice my father ever gave me."

"Perhaps," I agreed absentmindedly, still trying to place where I had seen Gregorio before. There was something that drew me to him, but I couldn't figure out what it was...


	23. The Battle of Farthen Dur

"I wonder when they'll figure out we've been able to talk this whole time," I mused quietly as I sat by the vent. It had been several days—so many that I'd lost count—since we came to this wretched place. Eragon had come to visit a few more times, but everything just felt awkward with him now since he'd kissed me. The more that I thought about it, the more uncomfortable I became. Eragon was like my brother... But Murtagh had been encouraging me to go along with the ruse that we were _together._

"I'm sure they have already realized it," he replied, flipping the page of a book he was reading. He'd been given books of his own from the library. All in all, we were actually being treated quite well, for being prisoners. "They just know they can't do anything about it."

"I suppose... They probably think we're conspiring against them." He scoffed slightly. We sat in silence for another few moments, stewing on our own thoughts.

"Murtagh?" I finally said, unable to keep my thoughts to myself any longer. He snapped the book shut and waited for me to continue. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything," he responded dryly. I had noticed that ever since I'd told him that Eragon had kissed me, he'd grown strangely distant.

"Well, I was just wondering... Do you..." I hesitated, embarrassed that I was even asking. "Do you like me?"

"Do I  _like_  you?" he asked incredulously. "In what way?"

"Um...in the way...that Eragon does. As  _more_ than just a friend." He fell silent, and my heart dropped into my stomach. I shouldn't have even asked! This is ridiculous! I don't know why I bothered in the first place.

"Tabatha—"

"Never mind, I don't know why I brought it up. It was silly of me," I said, trying my hardest to make my tone sound dismissive.

"You are a good friend, Tabatha... But—"

"I said never mind, Murtagh." There were tears coming to my eyes, and I couldn't understand why. All I knew was I didn't want to talk about this anymore. "It's clear to me now that when you kissed me it really didn't mean anything after all. Let's just drop it..."

He sighed heavily on the other side of the wall, but he didn't say anything else. Suddenly, the door to my cell burst open, slamming against the stone wall and causing me to jump. Gregorio came running into the room, a look of utter panic on his face.

"Gregorio!" I exclaimed, jumping up. "What is it? What's wrong?" I heard Murtagh get up as well.

"There are Kull in the tunnels," he exclaimed breathlessly.

"Gods be damned!" Murtagh cursed from his cell.

"What? How can that be?" I asked.

"I don't know. But they're going to be here soon." He was breaking out in a cold sweat and looking about the room.

"What are we going to do?" He looked at me in wide-eyed wonder.

"What else can we do? We have to fight!" he yelled, throwing his hands out to the side. I heard Murtagh beat against the wall.

"You have to let me out, Gregorio," I said, quickly switching into battle mode. His eyes widened even more.

"What? I can't! I won't!" he argued.

"Yes, you will," I stated firmly. "I'm a better fighter than most of the men you have here, and you're going to need all the help you can get. Can you get my sword? And Murtagh's as well; he's a great fighter." Gregorio stared at me open-mouthed for a moment. "There's no use arguing, and I won't back down. You said yourself that you trusted me. Please, you have to help. Why else would you have come here to tell me?"

He sighed heavily and looked over his shoulder. "Fine," he grumbled.

"Thank you," I said sincerely, patting him on the shoulder. "And if you can find my leather gloves, I'd appreciate if you brought them as well." He nodded sharply before leaving and closing the door behind him.

"Tabby!" I heard Murtagh hiss. "What are you doing? Did anyone ever say I  _wanted_  to fight?"

"Stop being such a child," I snapped harshly, knowing that would get under his skin. "This is a way to prove yourself without having your mind examined, so quit whining." He grumbled something else I couldn't hear, and then fell silent.

Gregorio returned about five minutes later with my sword in one hand and Murtagh's in the other. He handed it over and it felt so good to have the blade back in my grasp. "Here," he said, pulling something out of his pocket, "I found these. I hope they work." He handed me a brand new pair of leather gloves with padding on the fingertips and palms.

"They're perfect," I replied, giving him a small smile.

"Come on, we need to go," he said, pushing me out of the door. Gregorio went over and unlocked the door to Murtagh's cell. He rushed out, grabbing his sword on the way, and came over to me. It had been nearly a week since I'd seen his face, and I felt my chest tighten upon seeing him again, especially after my rather embarrassing show of the interest I took in his affections for me. He wrapped me in a tight hug, pulling me close to his chest. That only served to further my embarrassment. He pulled away and looked deep into my eyes, as if we were the only two people here.

"Let's get going," he growled, throwing a sideways glance in Gregorio's direction.

"This way!" Gregorio led us-the fugitives-through the stone hallways of Tronjheim, twisting in and out of winding passageways. "Everyone is outside the city, waiting for the Kull to come out of the tunnels. We'll have to hang around the back of the ranks until the fighting starts to remain unseen." We hurried down a corridor that opened up into a gallery that looked out over the massive expanse of space outside the city. And there, down below, was the entire army of the Varden amassed in their ranks. It was truly a marvelous sight. I stopped for a moment to just stare. This was actually happening. We were really going to fight in a battle. The skirmishes we'd had up until this point would be nothing in comparison.

Murtagh stopped short next to me, and Gregorio turned a little ways down the gallery to look at us. "What is it, Tabby?" Murtagh asked, his voice full of concern. I stared for another moment before turning my gaze on him.

"This is for real," I whispered. He gave me a sad sort of smile and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I won't let anything happen to you," he replied. "Come on, let's get down there." I nodded at him firmly and then we continued to follow Gregorio down onto what would be the battlefield. Murtagh stayed close to my side, one hand placed protectively on the pommel of his sword, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any hint of danger. He'd pulled the hood of his cloak up to shield his face, but mine had been taken when we first arrived, so I had nothing to help me remain incognito.

I could just glimpse Saphira's great blue head peeking up over the heads of the soldiers in front of me. Of course they would be at the forefront of the battle. It only hurt me slightly that Eragon hadn't come to me after he'd heard the news that a battle was coming. Perhaps he just wanted to shield me from harm, but I had a right to know if my life was in danger! What had he been thinking? And then I saw exactly what he had been thinking… He ran in front of the line of men to a form that was sitting down. The person was obviously female, by her slight frame, and she had flowing locks of jet black hair... _Arya._ Of course he wouldn't have spared a thought for me, when his mind was clearly occupied elsewhere.

The crowd around me sank into a brooding silence as the hours crawled by. It must have been getting close to sundown outside, for the crater grew black except for the light from the hundreds of lanterns that littered the crater like floating fireflies. A few times, I saw messengers running back and forth between the battalions, and their presence sent everyone into an uproar. But it was always just a false alarm. Murtagh was growing more and more agitated by the minute the longer we sat here. I looked over at him and placed a calming hand on his shoulder.

"Stop it," I whispered. "You're making me nervous."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help it. All this waiting around just makes it worse. I wish those damned Urgals would just get here already so we could start." I smirked slightly at him, but he was staring off into the distance and didn't notice. It was funny to me that he was anxious for the fighting to begin, whereas I was scared out of my wits.

The worst part about the massive crater was the lack of wind—the air was dead; motionless. As the hours drug on, it grew stifling in the huge space. Everyone around us was beginning to grow restless. There were occasional angry shouts that came from in front of us and from the other battalions, but there was nothing we could do. We had no choice but to wait for the Urgals to arrive.

 

* * *

 

It was another hour or two after that before a messenger came sprinting out of one of the tunnels, causing everyone who was still awake to jump to their feet. Those that were not were quickly roused out of their slumber. This time, it was not a false alarm.

"Finally!" Murtagh shouted into the chorus of other voices surrounding us. I could appreciate his enthusiasm, but I did not share it. There was a knot forming in the pit of my stomach, and I had a very bad feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong with this battle. I didn't know if the gift of foresight was something my mother had passed along to me, but in this moment, it certainly felt like it. The air all around us seemed to be shimmering with the energy from the ranks. A moment ago it had been still as death, and now it was bursting with life and renewed vigor.

Suddenly, a man cried, "I hear them!" and all fell silent again. No one moved… no one breathed. Murtagh tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, and I felt my palms beginning to sweat inside my gloves. I really was a nervous wreck…

Harsh voices shouting in a foreign tongue split the air as dark forms flowed out of the tunnel, like some black stream of water. Somewhere, a leader shouted a command and huge cauldrons full of pitch were tilted on their sides, spilling their boiling contents onto the heads of the Urgals below. The unsuspecting beasts howled in pain, their cries unearthly and piercing to the ear, and their arms flailed in pain. At another command, torches were thrown onto the greasy mess, causing the monsters to burst into flame. Even from here, I could feel the heat off of the deadly fires. A horrid stench filled the air, wafting over our army. In life these creatures smelled horrible; they smelled even worse in death. But it didn't take long for the Urgals behind them to stamp out the quickly dying fires and trample over their burned comrades.

The archers at the front loosed their arrows onto the solid wall of Urgals that stood before them. Bowstrings were let loose with a musical  _twang,_ their songs filling the cavern and echoing off the stone of the mountain. More of the creatures fell beside their brothers, forming an ever-growing pile. From an untrained gaze, it would seem the battle was going well for us. But I knew there were hundreds—if not thousands—more waiting in the tunnels below. They covered themselves with shields against the barrage of arrows to reform their line. And when they had, they surged forward with a savage war cry.  _This is it._

Murtagh looked over at me and gave me a reassuring nod. "Be careful out there, Tabby. I'll watch your back."

"And I'll do the same for you!" I shouted over the cacophony of screams. He gave me a half-smile before turning his attention back to the oncoming storm of monsters, his fearsome gaze alight with the fire of battle. This was where he belonged; this was what he had been trained for and what he was excellent at.

The Urgals broke through the wall near the front and the armies clashed together with a deafening scream of metal against metal. It was hard to see what was happening towards the front, but the noise itself was frightening. Saphira let out a great bellow and surged forward with the rest of the army. Murtagh and I followed closely behind everyone else, eager for a piece of the action. And we didn't have to wait long.

Our armies separated as a river would around a boulder, fighting frantically without any sense of order. It was every man for himself now. A Kull rushed towards me, tall horns gleaming in the lanternlight and a ferocious roar coming from his mouth. I planted my feet firmly and prepared for his attack. He raised a massive club above his head, eyes set on me, and I quickly dodged to the side as he swung the club downwards. His momentum kept him moving forward, which gave me the chance to plant my sword deep in his back. I felt the creature shudder beneath my sword and suddenly go limp, his lifeforce stolen away. But I didn't have any time to dwell, for another Urgal—this one smaller than the first—was headed straight towards me. He brandished a spiked mace, and the hideous object came inches away from striking me in the head. I ducked down, rolling to the side and slashing the creature's leg. The Urgal fell to his knees with a howl of pain and I mercilessly lopped off his head. On to the next one…

The battle continued on like this: Urgals and Kull came at me one after the other, all of them intent on killing me without a second thought. My will to live spurred me onward more than any allegiance I may have held to the Varden. In the heat of battle, things like alliances and friendships seemed to just melt away; there was only me, and my desperate desire to live another day. I glimpsed Murtagh out of the corner of my eye, hacking down one Urgal after the other in a blind rage. Heads and limbs and bodies flew about me, falling on top of one another into a morbid pile of corpses. And then I saw that there were men and dwarves mixed in with them, their faces frozen in their last moments of terror. It took everything within me to keep from getting sick. I decided from then on that I would keep my eyes off the ground. I cleared a path around me as another Urgal fell to my blade, and took my momentary respite to survey my surroundings. Saphira's massive blue form suddenly rose up out of the frenzy of battle, flying high above the madness. Hopefully she wasn't too hurt. Murtagh noticed them too, and I saw my thoughts echoed on his face.

Eragon and Saphira circled above us for a moment, and then she dived sharply to the ground, almost skimming the floor of the cavern. Those damn Urgals never even saw her coming. She barreled through them, cutting their ranks like a knife through butter. The archers quickly noticed them, and she beat her wings furiously to rise above the range of their arrows. Quickly, she disappeared into the darkness of the upper reaches of the cavern. At least now they could have a respite of their own. I looked around me and saw others struggling mightily with their own adversaries. If this was to be the way the battle was going to go, it would be a long one indeed.

I suddenly saw the ranks in front of me splitting with surprising speed. And then a huge Kull—probably at least nine feet tall—came barreling through, wielding a long spear. He cut down men as he passed them, never stopping his frenzied push through the ranks. And he was coming straight at me.

My heart beat faster in my chest, and my eyes grew wide. I tightened the grip on the hilt of my sword and watched as he set his black eyes on me, a vicious snarl curling his lip. With a terrifying roar, he raised his spear above his head and thrust downward, aiming for my chest. But I deflected the blow with a quick swipe of my sword. The head of the spear glanced off the hard stone floor of the volcano, bouncing back up as he got a better hold on it. The Kull turned to face me once more, eyes blazing wildly. He roared and lunged towards me with a jab at my torso. The spear glanced off my blade and I made a swipe at his thickly muscled leg. But he jumped back quickly, just barely avoiding the biting edge of my sword. For being so huge, he was fast! I raised my sword as another swipe from the spear came dangerously close to hitting its target, and I could feel myself tiring from taking on this foe. If I didn't do something—and quick—I was going to make a mistake that could end up costing me my life.

The monster twirled his spear above his head, roaring ferociously. And when he brought it down in front of him, the blunt end caught me on the side of the face, sending me flying backwards. I hit the ground with a  _smack_ and felt my sword fly out of my grasp. When I looked up, the huge beast was hurtling toward me at an alarming rate.  _So this was how I would die…_

I saw the spear coming down towards me, and the monster's eyes went wide. His muscles stiffened and his feet seemed to suddenly stop moving. With a huge  _crash_ , the Kull fell face first onto the ground, and I noticed the grey-fletched arrow protruding from the back of his head. I looked up, and saw Murtagh there, bow still held aloft in his hand and fire in his eyes. He lowered it and looked at me for a moment, mouth set into a grim line. I nodded sharply to show my thanks and quickly got back to my feet. That was now the second time he'd saved my life.

 

* * *

 

The battle waged on, seeming to have no end. The Varden's forces were pushed back towards the gleaming, white city of Tronjheim, and the Urgals' numbers seemed to have no end. Everything was looking quite hopeless. And then, I suddenly heard a great crash resounding on the battlefield.  _That came from inside the city!_  I searched the skies above frantically for any sign of Eragon and Saphira. But if they were there, I could not detect them in the gloom. Murtagh suddenly appeared at my side, eyes blazing wildly.

"Did you hear that?" he shouted over the din.

"It came from inside the city! Have you seen Eragon and Saphira?" He shook his head quickly, long hair flying about as his forehead dripped with sweat.

"We need to get in there! Whatever's happening, we've got to stop it if we hope to win this battle!" I nodded my assent and followed behind his broad form towards the city. A sharp jolt of pain suddenly wracked my mind, and I had the terrible feeling that Eragon was in great danger. I pulled on Murtagh's sleeve and he stopped, turning to face me. "What is it?" he yelled.

"We can't go in there just the two of us! Let me find Gregorio and some others who will help us! I'll join you in a minute!" His eyes narrowed in concern, but I cocked an eyebrow and he held in whatever objections he'd been about to voice. He was starting to learn that it was useless to argue with me.

"Fine, but be careful!" he said pointedly, turning and running towards the city. I watched him disappear through the throngs of people and then turned to try and find Gregorio.

Everything around me disappeared as a flash of white blinded my eyes. I couldn't see anything, and the sounds of battle faded. A horrible throbbing filled my head, as though I'd been struck.  _What's happening?_ I felt my knees hit the hard ground, and then my face after that. The spots began to clear from my eyes, and I could see the Urgals and men still battling all around me. But I had joined the growing pile of corpses that littered the floor of the cavern. As my vision started to go black, I could just make out someone walking towards me intently. And then… nothing.


	24. The Conquest Of Spaces

Murtagh's POV

It's been two days since the battle, and there was still no sign of her anywhere. How could I have been so stupid! She had been right behind me, and then I let her out of my sight... This is all my fault! I'd searched relentlessly every day since I realized she was missing, but my efforts never yielded any results. This place was so huge, she could have been anywhere. And in the madness of the battle, who knows what could have happened to her? I'd run through every possible scenario in my head, and none of them were pleasant. If there were any gods—as she so fervently believed—I'd been praying to them day and night to help me find her, and that she was unharmed.

Eragon noticed my brooding and eyed me quizzically. "What's wrong?" he asked slowly, lifting his head slightly off the pillow. He'd been on bed rest for the past two days after Durza had sliced his back open. Although Angela had done her best to heal him, there was still a nasty scar there that mirrored my own in an uncanny sort of way.

I sighed heavily and knocked my head back against the wall. How could I tell him? This was the girl he'd been friends with all his life; that he was in love with! After a moment's deliberation, I decided the only thing to do was to just tell him outright. "Tabby is missing," I stated plainly. His eyes grew wide and he forcefully pushed himself up onto his forearms, wincing in pain.

"What do you mean 'she's missing'? What happened!" he exclaimed hotly, a vein popping out on his neck.

"Eragon!" I snapped, quieting him. "We cannot find her. She's been missing since the battle. I was right there with her. We heard the Urgals break the floor inside Tronjheim, and we were rushing to come help you. But she wanted to get some reinforcements. I let her go against my better judgment. This is all my fault..."

"What if...? What if she's—"

"Don't even say it, Eragon," I growled harshly, eyes narrowing. "I'm going to find her. I just wanted to let you know what was going on." He nodded slightly before laying back down on the bed and staring at the ceiling.

"Thank you," he said quietly, hands folded over his chest. I rose from where I'd been sitting on the floor, and made to leave before he stopped me. "Murtagh?" His voice had suddenly gone hard as stone.

"What is it?"

"You find her, do you hear me?" he said firmly, eyes ablaze. "You know what she means to me." I felt my chest tightening and I simply nodded before exiting the doorway into the hall.  _What she means to me too, Eragon..._

 

* * *

 

There were others out on the battlefield. Women and children who had returned from the safety of the caverns, only to find their loved ones slaughtered. A woman wailed in a high keening tone, kneeling beside a boy who couldn't have been more than fifteen years. She watched me walk past, anger and sorrow clearly etched on her heavily lined face. Whoever the boy had been to her, they were clearly close. I hurried past the woman's discomfiting gaze, my eyes fixed firmly upon the ground where the light from my lantern shone.

The battle had been such a frenzy of action, I was finding it hard to remember exactly where it was we had been. Tracing my steps wouldn't be easy. I walked along the outer edge of the city, until I came to the place I was sure it was. When I got there, I felt my breath catch in my chest.

Before me was a wide expanse of bodies—impossible to gauge in the dim light—all piled one on top of the other. There were a few other people who were searching the same stretch of battlefield, and the despair on their faces matched what I was feeling. How would I ever find her in this mess? Taking a deep breath and rolling my shoulders, I stepped forward and knelt down, throwing aside the first body of many. The men and dwarves were easy enough to move aside, but when it came to the Urgals, it sapped my strength quickly. On top of all of that, the warm air inside the cavern was making it stifling; not to mention the horrid stench that was rising from the thousands of bodies strewn about the battlefield. This was going to be a long day...

 

* * *

 

I didn't know how many hours had passed, but my back was beginning to ache and my skin pulling at my scar. Still, I had seen no sign of her. Now I was at the very edge of the battlefield, near where the Kull had come out of the tunnels. The piles here were taller than the others, blocking the entrance to the tunnels where the beasts had fled after Durza's enchantment was broken. There was no way she would have been all the way over here... was there? I decided it couldn't hurt to look, so I headed in that direction.

Flies were beginning to amass on the huge piles, buzzing about the lifeless bodies of the Urgals. The stench was even worse here. I covered my nose and mouth with my tunic sleeve, and scanned the dark-skinned bodies. Still no sign of her. I looked around a little bit more, but I was beginning to grow tired. If I had to come back tomorrow, I would.

I turned away from the piles of corpses, heading back into the city, when something caught my eye. At the mouth of one of the tunnels, I glimpsed a dark form, impossible to make out in the dim light of the cavern. Could it be...? Drawing on whatever strength I had left, I ran towards the tunnel, heart pounding in my chest and in my ears. Finally, I reached the form—clearly a person—lying face down on the hard ground, and dropped to my knees at their side. What were they doing all the way out here by themselves?

Reaching towards them, I grabbed them by the shoulder and turned them over gently, my breath stolen away... _Tabatha_. She was unconscious, a nasty wound dripping blood down the side of her face. Was she breathing?

"Come on, Tabby," I whispered urgently, shaking her slightly by the shoulders. "Don't do this to me." I put my ear up to her face and felt a slight whisper of a breath against my cheek. At least she was breathing, albeit weakly. I wiped at the blood running down her face, getting it out of her eyes and hauled her up into my arms. She let out a soft whimper, and I breathed a sigh of relief. She was awake.

"M-Murtagh?" she questioned weakly, her voice croaking from disuse.

"I'm here, Tabby," I grunted, moving away from the mouth of the tunnel and back towards the city. Stepping over bodies and carrying her at the same time wasn't exactly easy, but we eventually made it to the cleared area nearer to the city walls.

"What happened?" she asked. "Where am I?"

"I'll explain everything later. Right now, we need to get you to Angela."

"Who's that?" Her words were slurring together, as though she'd been drugged.

"A healer," I explained quietly. "She's been helping Eragon." I shifted her in my arms, getting a better grip around her legs. Suddenly, she threw her arms weakly around my neck and nuzzled her face into my chest, sniffling slightly.

"What happened to him?"

"Shh," I chided softly. "All will be explained in due time." She remained quiet for the rest of the trip to the room I'd been given after the battle. It seemed I'd proved myself trustworthy enough not to be locked up. Kicking open the door, I hurried her inside and laid her down on the bed. She cried out in pain and clutched at her side.

"Ow! Murtagh, what's going on?" she yelled, face scrunching up in pain.

"I... I don't know, Tabby. Just hold on, I have to go get Angela!" She began to cry softly as I turned and left, racing back to Eragon's room to retrieve the witch.

 

* * *

 

Tabatha's POV

The bed was soft—much softer than the bed of my cell—and the room was warm and cozy. Murtagh had left only a moment ago, but I already missed his presence. What's happening to me? Why am I in so much pain? There was an aching coming from my right side; sharp shooting pains racing up and down my torso. It wasn't long before he came back, a short, curly-haired woman in tow. She looked at me with caring blue eyes, that seemed to hold a world of knowledge within them. Murtagh stood towering behind her, his face a mask of worry and concern. I was trying to hide the intensity of my pain from him, but it hadn't worked very well. Angela-as I presumed this was who Murtagh had been talking about-pulled up a little wooden chair next to the bed and placed a cool palm on my forehead. It felt like I was on fire.

"Now just lay there and let me take a look at you," she said softly. I nodded slightly to show her that I wasn't going to go anywhere. "Where does it hurt?"

"My right side," I groaned through clenched teeth. The pain was growing. Slowly, Angela lifted up the edge of my tunic, the fabric scraping softly against my skin. I had closed my eyes against the pain, but I heard Murtagh suck in his breath and Angela let out a sound of confusion.

"Tabby..." Murtagh whispered.

"What? What is it!" I demanded, eager to know what they were gawking at. They didn't answer me and my eyes flew open to see a look of shock on Murtagh's face. Slowly—and with great effort, I might add—I lifted myself up to get a better look at my torso. The sight caused me to gawk as well.

In addition to the hideous scar I'd received from the exploding barn, there was a strange looking mark covering the entirety of the right side of my torso. It was a dark pinkish-purple, and it fanned out from the main mass in a lightning pattern, little tendrils of the bruise snaking up to just below my breast.

"What happened to you?" Murtagh asked in concern. I'm sure my face was a mask of befuddlement.

"I haven't a clue!" I exclaimed, laying back down quickly and covering my eyes. "One minute, I was on the battlefield, looking for Gregorio, and the next... I don't really know. I saw someone, but then... there was nothing. The next thing I knew I was being picked up by Murtagh out on the battlefield."

"Who did you see?" Angela asked, her eyes looking dangerously serious. I paused to think, but there seemed to be a fuzzy wall blocking the memory of who I'd seen, and who—I was sure—had attacked me. Slowly, I shook my head.

"I can't remember," I whimpered, the pain in my side aching. The witch let out a breath of air and I noticed the look of consternation on her face.

"Tabby, it's very important that you try to remember. If someone attacked you, we need to know. There could be an agent inside the Varden's ranks," she explained. I nodded slightly and thanked her with a small smile. She put an ointment on the mark on my side that would help reduce the swelling, but there wasn't much else she could do, besides binding my waist.

"Thank you," I said weakly as she stood to leave.

"I want you to rest as much as you can stand it. You've had a long couple of days." She smiled at me fondly and turned to go, putting a hand on Murtagh's shoulder. As she opened the door, I saw her beckon him out into the hallway, a look upon her face I'd seen once before on someone else...Gertrude. The healer from Carvahall had looked exactly the same when she'd told me I was going to be fine; as it turned out, she had lied and I was dying. I could only imagine what the look on Angela's face could possibly mean now.

 

* * *

 

I must have dozed off, for I was awoken by Murtagh returning to the room and sitting beside me on the bed. The soft mattress shifted beneath his weight, rolling me closer to him. I propped my head on top of my arm and looked at him as he smiled down at me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

I shrugged slightly. "As well as can be expected, I guess. I still feel like my side is on fire, but the pain isn't as unbearable as before. What happened out there, Murtagh?"

"As far as what happened to you? I do not know," he replied quietly, putting a hand on my knee. "But the battle ended very strangely indeed. It turns out the crashing we heard coming from inside the city was Durza leading a troop of Urgals. He slashed Eragon across the back, which is why he hasn't come to see you. He's still resting."

"Is he going to be all right?" I asked in concern. However awkward things had become between us, he was still my best friend.

"We're not sure yet. Angela healed it to the best of her ability, but there's still a nasty scar there. And it's been causing him pain. We'll just have to wait and see, I suppose." I nodded slightly and waited for him to continue. "Anyways, it was going badly for him until Arya and Saphira destroyed the Star Rose, distracting the Shade. They gave Eragon enough time to thrust Zar'roc through his heart. When that happened, all of the Urgals just sort of stopped fighting all at once. And then they turned on each other. It was like some sort of spell had been lifted off them. After that, they all turned tail and ran. It was lucky for us too, or else I'm sure we all would have died."

"How odd," I remarked absentmindedly. "It seems I missed all the fun." He smirked slightly and just shook his head.

"Eragon's been worried sick about you, you know," he continued. "He'll be glad to hear you're doing better."

"I just can't wait until I can get out of this bed," I complained. I'd only been here for an hour, but already I was getting restless.

"You need to rest right now, and regain your strength. I heard that the Varden is getting ready to be on the move again, now that Galbatorix has found where they've been hiding this entire time," he said softly, picking at a fraying strand of the blanket.

"Where will they go?"

"It appears they've decided to go to Surda. The king there has agreed to support their efforts against the Empire. But after seeing what the king can do with the Urgals on his side, the whole effort just seems rather pointless."

"Pointless?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "What do you mean?"

"There's no way we can win," he continued. "Not after what I saw only two days ago. With the combination of Urgals and his men, we cannot hope to defeat Galbatorix. The best thing to do now is to get away, and quickly. Hide somewhere away from the conflict until it dies down. At least, that's what I'm planning to do."

My heart stopped beating in my chest for a moment. What did he just say? I felt my eyes grow wide and he glanced over at me, catching my look of surprise. "What? Do you still plan to leave us?" I asked breathlessly, my voice sounding stupid and childish to my own ears.

"Tabatha," he began slowly, "that has been my plan all along. It's not safe for me anywhere. Your father wants to use me just as much as he wants to use you. He thinks I'm some sort of second-coming of my father, and that I'll stand beside him on his glorious path to victory. But I can't, not after what I've seen him do. I have to go somewhere he'll never find me. And so do you! You are not safe in this Empire, or anywhere in the land, for that matter." His tone had suddenly taken on a pleading note, and he grabbed my hand firmly with his own. "We have to get out of here, Tabatha. We have to get somewhere safe. Let me protect you, please."

I pulled my hand away slowly and just stared at him. "Murtagh, we've been over this before. I have to stay with Eragon. My mother gave me powers, and whatever those powers may be, I must try to use them to help him." He looked at me wide-eyed. "I've been in hiding for almost sixteen years, and I'm done running. I'm ready to do something. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stop my father. Why are you trying to run away!"

"I will not become his slave!" he yelled forcefully, causing me to flinch. "All my life, I've only looked out for myself. I didn't have a family by my side, like you did. It's only been me. And now I have a chance to be free from my past. To start over; make a new life! Why should I sacrifice myself for people I don't even know?"

"So you would let him continue to slaughter the innocents, all because you don't want to fight for what's right!" I was infuriated now. How could he say such things? He looked away from me quickly.

"I don't owe anyone anything," he growled deeply. "Least of all the people who hated me simply because of who my father was." He stood up in a swift motion, his cloak swirling slightly behind him as he headed for the door. "I'm going to see Eragon. I'll be back later." And with that, he slammed the door behind him. I listened in shocked confusion as his heavy footsteps tread down the hallway, and then disappeared altogether.

 

* * *

 

Murtagh's POV

My footsteps echoed wildly off the stone walls, bouncing back at me in a cacophonous ringing. I didn't know where I was going; all I knew was I had to get away before I said something I really regretted. The anger was welling up inside me, threatening to boil over. What I really needed right now was to let off some steam. With a renewed purpose, I headed down into the cavern floor where members of the Varden had started clearing away the bodies of the dead. I made my way over to a section that was mostly made up of Urgals, and threw myself into the task.

I threw them roughly onto a pile, not caring one bit. These monsters deserved worse. There were others around me, but when they noticed how angry I was, they backed away and left me to it. That was how I preferred it: to work alone.

How could she say that? After all we'd been through together, she still has it in her head to fight against her father. She doesn't know him like I do. The man is a cold, unfeeling monster. There's no way they can hope to defeat him! Why can't she see that the best thing to do is to come with me! That way she'd at least be safely hidden from his clutches. The pile was steadily growing taller. When the area I'd chosen was finally clear, I plopped down onto the hard ground, burying my face in my hands and exhaling slowly.

_Who was I trying to fool?_

I knew full well that there was a different reason for me wanting her to come with me, but I was just too pig-headed and stubborn to admit it. How can I make her see what I truly feel? What I truly want? How much more plain could I have made it? She probably doesn't even feel the same way about me. And the last thing I needed right now was to be rejected by a woman... especially her…

The best thing for me to do is to just forget about her. Two people with the kind of history that we carry around like baggage just can't be together. There would be too much suspicion of treachery. They already thought we were conspiring against them; putting ourselves in that position would only make it worse. Eragon would be the best thing for her-or even someone like that idiotic guard-just anyone but me. I want to-no, I have to keep her safe. And if that means I have to stay away from her, then that's what I have to do. It's the only thing that I can do.

I had heard that they were rounding up a party of volunteers to go after the Kull that had escaped into the tunnels. If I wanted the Varden to let me leave, I would have to prove to them that I was trustworthy. This was the best way to do it.

This is for her own good... _and mine._

 

* * *

 

Tabatha's POV

After Murtagh had stormed out, I fell into a fitful sleep. The pain in my side kept me from really getting any rest, and I was quickly awoken by the sound of the door opening again. Rubbing my eyes of sleep, I looked around the darkened room. I must have blown the candle out... There was a figure moving about in the shadows, but I couldn't tell who it was.

"Murtagh?" I called out blearily to the blackness. The figure whirled around to face me and emitted a small gasp of surprise. Whoever it was quickly lit a match and held it to the candle, the light spreading slowly throughout the room. When I could see clearly again, I saw a girl-about my age-with long, wavy blonde hair and dark eyes. She smiled warmly and laid down a pile of clean clothes on top of the small dresser.

"Hello," she said timidly, her voice barely a whisper. "Angela has asked me to help take care of you. My name's Isabelle." I returned her smile when I realized the girl didn't present a threat.

"Hello, Isabelle," I replied. She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a cloth, submerging it in the washbasin and bringing it to place on my forehead. The cool cloth felt good against my forehead, and for the first time in a while I felt myself relaxing.

"How does that feel?"

"Wonderful, thank you," I replied with a smile. She removed her hand and then placed the clean clothes in the drawers, pulling out some other items and throwing them into a wicker basket.

"It seems the man who was occupying this room has made other arrangements," she explained upon noticing my quizzical look. "I'll bring your other belongings up from the cells." I nodded at her to show my thanks, and then she quickly hurried out of the room.

Once she was gone, I slowly lifted myself up. There was a dull throbbing in my side, but I barely noticed it now. Angela had left me a tea, which I assumed had a painkiller in it. I went over to the dresser and rifled through the items Isabelle had left. There was a pair of soft, brown breeches that I set aside. I pushed a few more items aside before finding a shirt with long, flowing white sleeves that had gold embroidery around the edges. The neckline was embroidered as well, and it seemed to plunge fairly low. My heart fluttered in my chest as I set it beside the breeches on my bed. As I dug a little further, I found a leather vest, with thin straps, that laced in the front. At least I'd be able to manage it myself.

I pulled my dirty tunic over my head and threw it into the corner where it landed in a crumpled heap. Taking another of the washcloths and dipping it in the cool water, I washed the dirt and grime off my body and my face. A real bath would have been wonderful, but this would do. There was a bit of soap by the washbasin, and I ran it through my hair, dunking my head into the basin to wash it out. When I was cleaned and dried, I changed into the fresh breeches, reveling in the feel of the soft fabric against my skin. Then I pulled on the loose corset I usually wore. It laced up the front too, so I could manage. I pulled it a little tighter than usual, and the pressure felt good against my aching side. I slipped the shirt over my head and then laced the leather vest over top. The vest was situated just below my chest, and with the added push of the corset beneath, it made me look extremely well-endowed. Once that was done, I pulled on my worn leather boots and quietly stole out of the room.

The hall was quiet, completely devoid of people. It seemed everyone was aiding in the cleanup process and preparing for the mass exodus of the Varden. When I finally found my way out of the labyrinth of lodgings, I made my way to the huge eating area. There were many people here, and hundreds of long wooden tables. Each of them was filled... all except one.

I made my way through the throngs of people to the familiar face that was staring into his plate. With all the noise of the people talking and laughing all around us, he didn't notice my arrival.

"Hey there, stranger," I said. Murtagh looked up at me in surprise.

"Tabby! What are you doing out of bed? You're not well enough yet," he scolded. I simply sat down across from him, ignoring his attempts at chiding me.

"You know me," I replied. "I have a problem with taking direction, and doing what I'm told." I saw him struggling to hide his smile, but then he sighed heavily.

"Same old Tabby," he mused quietly, staring down at his plate again.

"Murtagh." His head shot up to look at me. "About earlier—"

"I'm sorry for what I said," he suddenly cut me off. "I should not have been so harsh with you. Who am I to question whether you want to stay or not? If you want to stay with Eragon, then I can't stop you. Besides, it doesn't really matter to me. You've got to make your own choices." I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I _t doesn't matter?_

"Well... thank you, I suppose."

"Nothing to thank me for," he replied flippantly. I flinched at the harshness of his words.

"What's the matter with you?" I snapped.

"Who says anything is wrong?"

"You're acting extremely rude towards me right now. What's wrong?" I demanded, slapping my hand down on the wooden table forcefully.

He sighed heavily. "Ajihad has asked me to join a hunting party with himself, the Twins, and a couple garrisons of soldiers," he replied sullenly. I eyed him suspiciously. What kind of a hunting party requires two garrisons of soldiers?

"Hunting what, exactly?" I asked. He hesitated visibly, biting on his lower lip.

"The Kull that fled from the battle," he finally admitted.

"What?" I exclaimed, jumping forward in my chair. "Why does he want you to go? I thought that he hated you... and me... " By now, I was thoroughly confused. None of this was making any sense.

"I don't know," he sighed.

"Then don't do it!"

"I have to go, Tabby," Murtagh said solemnly. "If I don't, then they'll never trust me enough to let me leave. This is my only chance to prove my worth to them."

"I understand that," I said, leaning further over the table, "but surely there's some other way? It's dangerous in those tunnels, and the Twins are going; I don't trust them at all."

"Nor do I, but I have no other option." His tone had a sense of finality to it, and I breached the subject no further. He leaned back in his chair, tilting it onto the back two legs. "You should get some rest," he continued. "The journey to Surda will be a long one."

"I can't sleep," I admitted, following his lead and leaning back against the chair, taking on an unassuming air.

"Neither can I. There's just something about this place that is... unsettling," he agreed.

"I have often felt that too." I watched him carefully as he picked at the food on his plate. "Do you really have to go?"

"Stop worrying, Tabatha. I'm going to be fine."

"But I  _am_ worried. You don't act like you understand the gravity of the situation," I said, my tone becoming darker. "You could die."

"I'm not afraid of death," he replied seriously.

"I know," I whispered, reaching across the table and taking his hand. "That's what scares me so much. I'm afraid you'll end up doing something stupid and get yourself killed. Promise me that you'll come back in one piece." I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, and I knew that Murtagh could see them.

"Tabatha..."

"Promise me," I snapped, cutting him off. He sighed heavily and leaned across the table, until our faces were mere inches apart. I felt the blood rushing to my face, and the overwhelming need to lean just a little further, until our lips were touching again. He looked into my eyes for a moment, seeming to be searching for something.

"I promise," he finally whispered. For some inexplicable reason, my heart skipped a few beats at those two words. I knew they were a promise coming straight from his heart, and I could trust him. And I knew that he could tell that one oath meant the world to me.

"Thank you," I replied, leaning away from him slightly. "I've come to the point where I can't imagine life without you." He laughed slightly, one side of his mouth going higher than the other.

"You'd forget I ever existed in a month," he laughed. "Do you remember that you swore you hated me only a month ago?"

"People have a habit of changing," I muttered, picking at a spot on the table. "And I'm not too proud to admit that I was wrong." I chanced a look up at him, and saw that he looked a bit surprised, His arms were crossed over his chest, and his eyes inspected my face. After a few more moments of silence, I couldn't take it anymore. "What are you staring at?"

"I'm staring at you," he stated plainly. "You have changed, Tabatha. And I think for the better." He gave me a little smirk and I felt the blood rushing to my face. How was it that he could make me feel this way with just the slightest of looks? I'd never met anyone like him before, and he was changing everything I thought I ever knew.

"When do you leave?" I asked, trying to shift the focus off of myself.

"Tomorrow morning." I looked down at the table.

"So soon?" I asked, trying not to sound overly interested. If there was nothing between us, it would do no good to pine after him.

"The sooner the better. We won't be gone but a few days." I nodded slightly, avoiding eye contact with him. He finished picking at his food and then pushed back from the table, the legs of his chair scraping against the hard stone of the floor. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"Anywhere," he laughed. "I just want to walk around a bit. See the sights; or something. Come on, come with me." He walked around to where I was sitting and held out a hand to me. I couldn't help but smile as I took it and he pulled me up. We walked around Tronjheim for a while, taking in the various sights. There were statues of dwarves—presumably their gods—and other works that showcased their talents in manipulating stone. We walked through the huge hall that lay beneath the dragon hold, where the shards of Isidar Mithrim still littered the floor like fallen stars. There were several dwarves milling about in the hall, gingerly placing the shards of broken gemstone into wooden carts.

We traveled up the huge staircase, taking our time so as not to tire quickly. I laced my arm through his and held on. He bent his elbow to give me a better grip, and we walked up the stairs in pleasant silence. It seemed like an hour had passed when we finally reached the top. My side was aching and my legs were throbbing, and I felt as though I were about to pass out. Against my will, I fell into his side and he caught me in his strong arms.

"Tabatha?" he asked in concern.

"I'm alright," I lied, closing my eyes against the dizziness. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Well, come on then. Let's get you back to your room," he said softly, placing an arm around my shoulder and leading me back towards the lodgings.

"No, Murtagh, I'm fine. I don't want to rest," I complained. "You're leaving in the morning, and then you're going to leave me once the Varden departs. Just give me a bit more time with you." But he ignored my pleas, leading me firmly back to my room. We stopped outside the door, and he made to open it but I stopped him. "Murtagh, wait." He looked down at me, grey eyes looking sad.

"Tabatha—"

"No, let me speak!" I snapped forcefully, surprising even myself with the force of my words. He clamped his mouth shut quickly and then waited for me to continue. "I know you say that you don't think of me in any capacity other than a friend," I began slowly. "But I can't deny my feelings anymore… I was wrong, Murtagh. I was completely wrong about you, and it's taken me this long to realize it. I want you to come with us because I can't imagine my life without you anymore. I don't…"

"Tabatha, please," he said softly, coming closer to me. "We can't do this. It isn't safe for either one of us. If they thought, even for one second, that we were working together against them… Well, I don't want to think what they would do. It's better this way; if we just stay away from one another."

"Then you do feel the same?" I demanded. I had to know before he left, or else my mind would never be at ease. He groaned slightly in frustration, looking away from me.

"It doesn't matter what I feel," he whispered, turning back to me. "This is the way it has to be."

"No it doesn't!" I didn't mean to yell, but I couldn't help that my feelings were running away from me. "It can be whatever way we want it to be! Why do we have to live in fear?"

"Because this world is a dangerous place!" he exclaimed, coming quickly towards me. "Especially for people like us. We will never be safe as long as your father lives."

"Then stay with me." My voice was becoming desperate. I grabbed hold of the neck of his tunic, pulling him closer to me. "Stay with me and help me bring down my father's reign of terror." He sighed and turned his face away.

"It isn't that simple, Tabatha. You know little of the world; it just isn't that easy." He paused and for a moment I thought the conversation was over. But then he turned his grey eyes back on my face, incredible sadness locked within them. "Even if I wanted to stay to fight… I'm no good for you, Tabby. You deserve so much better than me. Go! Be with Eragon! He's the one you should choose… not me."

My heart was breaking, but still I had to try. I felt my breath catching in my throat, and the tears welling in my eyes. "I've made my choice, Murtagh," I whispered, leaning up to his face. "And I've chosen you. I don't want anyone but you." The breath escaped from his body and I felt him going limp in my arms. His hands were on my shoulders, and my grip tightened on his shirt.

"Tabatha," he breathed. I leaned my face up into his, pressing my lips firmly against his. He resisted me at first, mouth clamped firmly shut. But with a groan, he finally gave into me, opening his mouth slightly. My mouth grabbed hungrily at his, and I couldn't stop the fire that had taken over my body. I needed him; every piece and every fiber of his being. He was the only thing I had ever truly wanted in this world, and I'd do anything to keep him near me.

I nibbled softly at his bottom lip, and his mouth opened up further. I took the opportunity to run my tongue over his bottom lip, just the way he'd done to me the first time we'd kissed. He suddenly pulled away, breathing heavily. "Tabatha," he said, out of breath, "it didn't mean nothing. I'm sorry, but I lied to you. That kiss… in the clearing… it didn't mean nothing…"

"I know." My lips crashed into his again with renewed vigor, and he pushed me up against the wall. His tongue slipped into my mouth, slowly exploring the new territory. I'd never done anything remotely like this before—Eragon had kissed me when we were seven, but that didn't count—but something about it just felt so… right. His hands traveled up and down my body, mapping every inch of my skin. Finally, his palms rested on my hips, tightening their grip. I felt as if my body was going to rip apart from the inside out if I didn't keep kissing him. It was the first thing I'd done in months that felt natural. This was right; this was the way things were supposed to be; this was what I wanted.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. And I felt a hollowness forming in my chest as he pulled away. Murtagh reached up and tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear, softly stroking my face. "I will come back," he whispered, his other hand firmly on the back of my neck and his forehead resting against mine. The tears began to escape from my eyes.

"Don't go."

"I have to," he said firmly. "I will come back." He pulled away from me then and looked into my eyes. Then he planted a soft kiss on my forehead and said, "Goodnight, Tabatha." Then Murtagh walked away from me, never looking back.

 

* * *

 

Murtagh's POV

"What have I done?" I asked myself aloud, staring blankly at the stone wall. I had resolved myself to stay away from her, but now it seems I've made things worse.

"What's wrong?" Eragon asked absently. He sat up in the bed, polishing Zar'roc's blood red blade. It still sent a pang through my chest to see him with my father's sword.

How could I tell him? Knowing how he felt about her? But this was my life, and I had the right to feel the same way. I hadn't known Eragon long enough to feel any sort of deference or obligation to him. But we  _had_ become friends, however briefly. Now it seemed we were vying for the affections of the same girl.

"I kissed her," I mumbled, keeping my eyes on the floor.

"Who?" he asked disinterestedly.

I hesitated for a split second. But I knew that we would have to come to this eventually. He needed to know. "Tabatha."

His head snapped up towards me. "What?" he asked incredulously. "Tabatha? As in, 'my best friend' Tabatha?" I slowly nodded, my eyes still downcast. I heard him struggling to find the words, until he blurted out, "Why?" His tone had an edge of fury, and I suddenly grew hot with anger. Jumping up off the floor, i strode to the side of his bed.

"Why else do you kiss a person, Eragon?" I yelled back. I knew that he had feelings for Tabatha, but he seemed to have lost all sense in his rage. "I don't know what came over me. She was just… there. I don't know how long it will be before I see her again, and I wanted to so badly. I have for a very long time; I just haven't allowed myself to admit it." Eragon remained silent for a long time, and I contemplated just leaving.

"She kissed you back?" he finally forced out.

"Yes," I muttered, "she did." I was starting to regret coming to talk to Eragon, but I knew that I had to.

"Congratulations," he mumbled, a hint of anger in his voice. "I'm happy for your two." What could I say? This wasn't going as I had planned… "I need to get some rest. I'll see you off before you leave tomorrow morning." I nodded firmly and then made to go, but stopped short just before exiting the door.

"Eragon?" I asked quietly. He looked up at me, his dark eyes as hard as stone. "If something happens to me, take care of her. Alright?" I didn't give him a chance to respond before I left to get some rest of my own.

 

* * *

 

Eragon's POV

When Murtagh closed the door firmly behind him, I felt a pang of guilt go through my chest. I'd known from the moment Murtagh had joined us on this journey that he admired Tabby; but who didn't? I just never realized his attraction had run that deep… or that it was mutual. I knew now that Murtagh really loved her.

And I'd known from the moment I'd kissed Tabby that she didn't return my affections. She'd just been denying her true feelings for Murtagh this entire time. How could I have been so blind?

But deep down inside, I was happy that they had found each other. Murtagh's life had been hard enough up to this point; they both deserved some happiness. And I would do whatever I could to make sure my friends got it.


	25. In the Land of Gods and Monsters

Tabatha's POV

Light burned against the inside of my eyelids, and they flew open wildly. The pain in my side had reduced to a dull throbbing. _What's going on?_ It took me a moment to realize where I was... and then I remembered what had happened last night. I put a finger up to my lips to feel them still tingling. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't alone in my room.

Isabelle was there, with fresh towels and more clothes. "Good morning," she said cheerily, storing the items away in the drawers.

"Hello," I said groggily. She had lit the candle on the nightstand, and I was slowly becoming accustomed to its glaring light. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured you would need more clothes, since you arrived with only one pair and it was filthy," she explained slowly, a wide smile plastered on her face. I just nodded and thanked her. She finished putting things away, and then was getting ready to leave before I stopped her.

"Isabelle? What time is the hunting party leaving?" I asked, swinging my legs over the side of the bed onto the cold stone floor. She twisted her mouth in thought for a moment.

"I think they're leaving right now, actually." My heart jolted in my chest and I pounced out of bed, hurrying to the dresser. "Tabby?" she asked in concern. "Is everything all right?"

"No!" I screamed, flinging clothes aside until I found what I was looking for. "I'm late!" She seemed not to understand what I was saying, but she helped me nonetheless. For time's sake, I slipped a dark green, wool dress over my head and pulled on my boots. And then I ran.

As fast as I possibly could, I dodged other passersby and pushed past slow-moving soldiers. They all stared at me in my frenzied sprint, but I didn't care. I was tripping over the hem of the dress until I pulled it up around my knees, exposing some skin. My aunt would have been mortified if she could see me now. But none of that mattered. If I didn't make it down to say goodbye, Murtagh would think that I didn't care; that last night was just an effect of my lack of sleep and the herbs Angela had given me. I had to let him know that it wasn't. But what if I didn't make it in time?

 

* * *

 

Murtagh's POV

We were all ready to go. Ajihad said some last words to Eragon before trotting to the front of the group on his black charger. Tornac shifted nervously beneath me, and I gave him a reassuring pat on the neck. We'd only be gone a couple of days; everything was going to be fine.

Saphira spread her massive wings and flapped them languorously, sending a hot breeze over our hunting party. Eragon looked at me sympathetically, and I felt my chest tightening. Looking over my shoulder, I gazed back at the huge, white city. There were a few people out finishing up the cleanup, but still I did not see her. _Tabby was not here._

It seemed that last night had just been a fortuity—for me at least—and most likely an effect of whatever medicines Angela had given her. Ajihad bellowed out a command, but I still wasn't paying attention; I just continued to search for her. Eragon came to my side and put a hand on Tornac's flanks. I looked down at him but I couldn't stand to see that look of pity that he bore. I did not need his pity.

"I'm sure she wanted to be here," he said, trying to be reassuring. It wasn't working. "She's probably still trying to recover."

"As you should be," I growled. Tornac pawed the ground impatiently, and I noticed the party was beginning to move. We were leaving, and still she had not come.

"Do you want me to tell her anything?" My head whipped back around to look at him. That sympathetic tone was beginning to irritate me. The riders spurred their mounts forward, heading towards the tunnel. Tornac shifted restlessly, eager to follow them as he had been trained to do. But I was caught. Desperately, I looked down at Eragon again.

"Tell her... Just tell her..." I struggled with my words, as the party began to draw away from me. "Damn it all! Just tell her we need to speak when I get back! And that it was real for me. Alright?" He nodded firmly, and I spurred Tornac into a canter to catch up with the party. I rejoined them at the mouth of the tunnel and threw one last, desperate look over my shoulder towards the city. _She still was not there…_

 

* * *

 

Tabatha's POV

I finally made it down to the outside of Tronjheim, where I knew Murtagh and the others would be departing from. There was no one there except Eragon and Saphira. Quickly, I ran over to him. Even though I was out of breath, and my side was aching painfully, I sprinted as fast as I could. He seemed surprised at my arrival.

"Eragon," I breathed.

"Tabby?" he said in surprise, looking down at my raiment. "Are you wearing a dress?" I tried to contain my anger at his stupidity.

"That isn't important right now," I growled. "Where are they?" My voice had become urgent and desperate. I felt my palms beginning to sweat. His mouth opened, but no words came out, only a small strangled sound.

"Tabatha..." he finally breathed quietly. " I'm sorry." I groaned outwardly as I was screaming on the inside. _I had missed it!_

"Damn it all," I cursed to myself. Burying my face in my hands, I sank to my knees on the ground, willing the world to go away for just a moment. Eragon leaned next to me and I felt Saphira softly nudging my shoulder with her large snout.

"Tabby," Eragon consoled. "I'm sorry you weren't here. But they had to leave."

"I just wanted to say goodbye..."

"Murtagh told me to let you know he wanted to speak with you when he returned," Eragon continued. "And that..." He hesitated for a split second. I looked up at him slowly, feeling the tears brimming in my eyes. "And that he wasn't angry you didn't make it. He would see you in a few days' time."

I nodded weakly, but still...my heart was breaking.

 

* * *

 

The days became stagnant, each one more listless than the last. I idled about the camp, watching men in the practice yard or keeping to my room with a book. But their words never held me. My mind was occupied elsewhere. Each day that they didn't return, I grew more distressed. Eragon tried to comfort me, as did Gregorio, but I wanted nothing to do with them. It wasn't until Arya tried speaking to me that I snapped.

I was sitting on the edge of the practice yard, watching her and Eragon spar carefully. His scar was giving him trouble, and sometimes it erupted into crippling spasms, but he was stubborn and still wanted to practice with her. When they paused for a break, he came over to me to sit upon the ground, breathing heavily. She followed behind, not even sweating from her exertion. I handed Eragon my waterskin and he drank greedily, thanking me afterwards. And then he noticed the look of melancholy upon my face.

"They'll be back any day now," he said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm sure of it."

"How can you be?" I shot back harshly. He flinched a bit at my unkindness, and I felt a pang of guilt go through my chest. _Why was I acting like this? Eragon hadn't done anything._ Sighing heavily, I turned towards him. "I am sorry, Eragon. I'm just on edge right now."

He nodded slightly, and took another drink. Then, Arya's musical voice sounded off next to me. "It does not do to dwell on it," she intoned, her voice serious and slightly contemptuous. My eyes swept up to her, and I could feel their fire boring into her.

"Thank you," I spat venomously, "for that wonderfully helpful piece of advice. I'll keep that in mind. In the meantime, why don't you tend to your own business and keep your pointy nose out of mine." She never even batted an eyelash. Eragon scoffed next to me.

"Tabby!" he admonished. "There's no need for that. Arya was only trying to help." I snapped my head around to stare at him incredulously.

"Really, Eragon?" I proclaimed in astonishment. "You would defend her after she has spoken to me as though I am no better than a common servant?"

"What purpose do you serve if you languish about all day, pining for a man? In that instance, you are even more useless than a common servant," she hissed. I bounded to my feet, seeing red. Eragon chased after me, grabbing hold of the hem of my tunic and pulling me back.

"Tabatha!" he cried.

I tried to pull away, my fingers clawing at her face but coming up just short. She stood there impassively, unblinking. "You know nothing of me, you _bitch_!" I screamed, drawing the attention of the others around us. "How dare you pass judgment against me?" She didn't respond, but I saw her emerald eyes go wide, looking beyond me. It was then that I noticed Eragon's grip on my shirt had slackened, and then it disappeared altogether. I turned to look, and saw him writhing in agony upon the ground, crying out as his back went into a fit of spasms.

Arya knelt next to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. "He must be taken to the healer," she announced, scooping him up into her arms with surprising strength when he stopped thrashing about. I watched helplessly as she carried him away, disappearing back into the city. It seemed I was only good for creating a mess of things…

 

* * *

 

On the fifth day after the hunting group had departed, a great uproar was heard from outside the city. My heart began hammering wildly in my chest. _They were back!_ I raced outside the city to the tunnel where everyone was gathered. Trying to see over their heads, I got up on my tiptoes and saw Ajihad emerge from the tunnel first atop his destrier. He clutched at his side, and I saw blood trickling out at an alarming rate. Eragon was quickly at my side and we pushed through the crowd with Saphira's help. When we finished the opening of the tunnel, I searched desperately through the crowd of tired-looking men and horses.

"Ajihad!" Eragon exclaimed upon seeing his wound. "What happened?"

"There was an ambush," he said through gritted teeth. "We were unprepared." My eyes scanned once more before dread plummeted through my heart.

"Eragon," I breathed, interrupting whatever thought he'd been about to voice. "Eragon, I cannot find him." Eragon slowly averted his eyes from Ajihad and searched the group as well. When his results matched my own, he turned back to the dark-skinned man, whose face was contorted in pain.

"Where is Murtagh?" Eragon asked slowly, his voice dark and serious. He hesitated slightly, but then noticed the pleading look on my face.

"He went missing when we were attacked in the tunnels," Ajihad replied, struggling to mask the pain in his voice. Healers quickly came to his side and spirited him away, but my head was spinning. I turned desperately, searching the crowd again in vain. _Perhaps I had overlooked something? Maybe he'd come back!_

"Tabby! Tabby stop!" I heard Eragon yelling, but everything was muffled. The world had taken on a hazy appearance, and nothing seemed to be real. _This had to be a dream. This couldn't be happening..._

 

* * *

 

Eragon and a large man named Frederic had escorted me back to my room. He wanted me to try and sleep but I found it difficult. My head was reeling with thoughts and worries of what could have happened to him. Finally, my eyes fluttered closed from sheer exhaustion.

The next morning, Eragon came to my room, rousing me from my sleep. I opened my eyes as he entered, but did not look at him. I couldn't. I just stared blankly at the ceiling as Eragon walked over to the side of the bed. He pulled up the little wooden chair and sat before me.

"Tabby," he said softly, taking hold of my hands. "Tabby, please look at me." It took me a moment, but I blinked a couple of times and the fogginess cleared from my vision. Slowly, I turned my head to look at him and pushed slightly up onto my elbows.

"This isn't real," I mumbled. He squeezed my hands slightly.

"It doesn't feel real to me either, Tabby," he replied, brushing a piece of hair out of my face. "But Arya has gone into the tunnels to search for him." I felt contempt boiling in my chest. I wouldn't trust her to find him if my life depended on it. "She will find him, Tabby."

"Eragon," I replied seriously, "what if she doesn't? What then? I won't give up until he is found. I will not rest."

"Tabby, I don't think Nasuada will allow that. There are things happening in the Varden that require her attention. She's going to need everyone she can get, and I've already recommended you to her, so—"

"Wait, Eragon, what are you talking about?" I cut him off. "Who is Nasuada?"

"Oh... I'd forgotten you haven't heard..." he said slowly. "Ajihad is... dead. Nasuada is his daughter, and she took over his position as leader of the Varden." I was surprised to hear that so much had changed just overnight.

"And why exactly are you recommending me to someone that I haven't even met yet?" I demanded.

"Well..." he hesitated.

"Never mind," I snapped impatiently. "I'm only concerned with finding Murtagh right now. If that _elf_ isn't back in two days, I'm going after him myself."

"Please, Tabatha, don't do anything stupid."

I scoffed at that, throwing the blanket aside and vaulting out of bed. "That's rich, coming from you Eragon. Would you please just leave so I can get dressed?" I heard him sigh behind me, but I didn't even turn to watch him go. All I wanted right now was to be left alone.

 

* * *

 

Arya returned the next day. I had been sitting by the mouth of the tunnel since the night before, not eating or sleeping. My nerves were taking over my senses, and all I could envision was the worst possible outcome. Eragon came to my side, trying to get me to eat something for what seemed like the hundredth time. I dismissed him with a wave of my hand and he plopped down next to me. We sat in silence, just staring at the dark opening of the tunnel. Minutes ticked by like hours, and my nerves worsened. Finally, a form appeared out of the darkness and Arya emerged into the lanternlight. She was walking slowly, and carrying something in her hands. I leapt to my feet, as did Eragon, and we hurried over to her. My chest began to tighten when I saw she was alone; that could only mean one thing…

"Well?" Eragon asked her impatiently. She shook her head slowly, and held up the item in her hands. By the light of the lantern, I saw the shredded remains of a dark cloak that I instantly recognized as his. It was the one he'd let me borrow to sneak into Gil'ead... and it was soaked through with blood.

"I am sorry," she said quietly, and I noticed it was directed at me.

"No..." I breathed. The tears came unbidden to my eyes, flowing down my face. My chest tightened and I felt my breath being stolen away. The world seemed to stop around me, and everything moved in slow motion. _This can't be happening... He can't be dead!_

An unearthly scream ripped from my throat as I fell to my knees, grabbing hold of chunks of my hair and pulling until I couldn't take the pain anymore. Uncontrollable sobs wracked my chest, and I felt my body convulsing with my grief. I had never felt such pain and loss before, not even when Brom died. It seemed as though it was earth shattering. I couldn't see straight and my head was pounding. Everything around me was blurry, and voices were muted in my ears. I heard Eragon yelling, but I couldn't make out the words. When I looked up at him, I could barely make out the look of fear on his face. Wait... _fear?_

It was then that I realized there was a strange, dark purple light all around me. I held my hands in front of my face and saw that the tips of my fingers were burning with a white hot light. They crackled with a charge like lightning, and I felt the fear growing inside my chest. _What's happening?!_

Arya was backing away from me, and Eragon was kneeling by my side, though I still couldn't hear what he was saying. My head was filled with a strange buzzing sound. The sound only heightened into a high keening, and I could take it no longer. I screamed violently, covering my ears with my hands to block it out. But that did no good. It felt as though I was being ripped apart at the seams, from the inside. Everything melted away, and there was only me, locked inside a pulsing cage of strange power. _Was this magic?_ I'd never seen anything like it before.

I screamed once more, and the ground shook beneath me, rocks falling hundreds, if not thousands, of feet from the roof of the cavern to smash upon the ground. I felt the prison of light fly outwards away from my body, swallowing up everything around me and then disappearing with a deafening _whoosh_ , like the sound of Saphira's wings. And then... blessed silence. I could breathe again; hear again; think again. Eragon's hand was on my shoulder and I sat up slowly, tears still falling down my face. I looked at him helplessly and saw the fear and confusion in his dark eyes. _What have I done?_

"Tabatha," a voice breathed. But it was not Eragon's... it was Arya's. I looked over at her and saw the same fear evident in her gleaming emerald eyes. "What have you done?"

Looking back down at my hands, they had returned to normal, but they were trembling violently. "I..." I tried to speak, but the words seemed caught in my throat. "I don't know," I finally forced out.

"Let's get you back to your room," Eragon said cautiously. "You need to rest."

"I think that would be best," another voice said. I turned and saw Angela standing there, hands upon her hips and a wary look on her face. "Eragon, Nasuada wants to see you...now. You too, Arya. I'll help Tabby back to her room." Eragon looked at me once more where I was still kneeling on the ground, and then nodded firmly.

As he passed her, I heard him whisper in her ear, "Take care of her. And figure out what's going on."

"I'll do my best," she replied. Angela came to my side and took a firm hold of my upper arm, hauling me to my feet. "Come along; let's get you back to your room." I went with her compliantly, still too shocked at what had just happened. She led me back to my room and opened the door quickly, hurrying me inside. When the door was closed securely behind us, I turned to look at her.

"Angela, I—"

"Shh," she cut me off, putting a finger to her lips. "Tabby, I don't know what just happened to you, but that was an incredible display of power I just saw. Come, sit." She pointed to the bed and I sat at its edge as she pulled up the wooden chair across from me. "I have heard tell of Galbatorix's power, but nothing like that. Tell me about your mother."

I was caught off guard by her sudden inquiry, but I didn't understand what had just happened any more than she did. "I... I don't know much about her. She lived in Carvahall... she was a witch and a healer... just like you." I eyed her carefully when I came to that realization, gauging her face for any reaction, and I was not disappointed. Her eyes went wide suddenly.

"What was her name?"

"Adelaide," I replied slowly.

"So that explains it..." She thought to herself for a moment, a look of consternation upon her face. Angela looked back at me, her blue eyes alight with understanding. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

I shook my head. "No, nothing. Angela, what's happening to me?"

"It seems your mother left you far more than her looks," she said quietly. "When you get to Surda, you must find a man named Braeden. He is a noble in Orrin's court. He can give you answers." She was speaking cryptically, but I didn't have a chance to question her. The curly-haired witch suddenly bounded up out of her chair and headed towards the door.

"Wait, Angela!" I cried. She stopped and looked back at me, and I noticed the look on her face. It was...excitement.

"I cannot tell you more now," she said breathlessly, hanging on to the edge of the door. "Just know this, Tabatha. You have entered the age-old game of gods and monsters. And it is a dangerous game indeed." With that, she hurried away, closing the door firmly behind her. When she was gone, I fell back onto the bed, covering my eyes with my arm. The aching in my chest was still there at the loss of Murtagh, but now I only had more questions than before.

How will I do this without him? He is the only one—besides Eragon—that would have stood by my side. If the Varden didn't trust me before, they certainly won't know after that display of power. It seemed I needed Murtagh now more than ever... and he was dead.


	26. Endings and Beginnings

   Life came to a screeching halt. Darkness weighed heavily on my mind, and I didn't know what I was doing anymore. Everything seemed to be so pointless. Why am I even still here? My days bled into one another, and I lost all track of time. Isabelle would bring me meals periodically—which I would begrudgingly eat—but she was the only one I would allow to enter. Eragon came at least three times a day to pound on the door and call for me to come out. But I ignored him. Angela came a couple of times, as did Gregorio, but I barred them as well. Arya even came once, but after I'd screamed at her to never come back, she stayed away. I ignored them all. They could say nothing that would give me any comfort. There was no one I wanted to see...no one except Murtagh.

   And then Eragon came to me, as he usually did, and he said something that made me change my mind. "Tabby," he said softly from the other side of the door, "I know that this is probably just another feeble attempt to get you to come out, but I'm going to try anyways. I have to... I know that you are grieving for Murtagh, but he was my friend too. I miss him just as much as you do. What I'm trying to say is: mourning isn't going to bring him back. We have to accept what's happened and move on. I know this must be hard to hear, but I have to say it." He paused to let his words sink in. And although I hated to admit it, Eragon was right. All I was doing was harboring the pain and letting it get worse until it swallowed me completely.

   I pushed against the door, leaning my head where I knew he was. How could we be so close and yet so distant from each other? "Eragon..." I whispered, my heart aching for the way things used to be.

   "I'm leaving, Tabby," he suddenly blurted out. "I'm going to Ellesmera to finish my training with the elves." He paused again. "I want you to come with me, Tabatha."

   I felt my breath catch in my throat and a stunned silence replaced the mournful one that had presided for the past few days. I pulled on the handle, flinging the door open and catching him quite unawares. "What?" I demanded hotly.  

   "Tabatha," he breathed, eyes going wide. "Oh, thank the gods." His voice sounded relieved, and I saw his body relax.

   "What do you mean you're going to Ellesmera?" I repeated.

   "Tabatha, I need to finish my training. There's so much that Saphira and I don't know. If we ever hope to win this war against your father, I must learn," he explained slowly. I pondered what he was saying, and new that he was right. But that didn't explain the other statement he had made.

   "Why do you want me to come with you?" I asked warily.

   "You're my best friend, Tabby. Why wouldn't I?" I gazed at him sadly for a moment before heaving a sigh.

   "You don't understand, do you?" I asked bitterly, feeling sadness and pity and despair all at the same time. "Do you know what would happen if I went into the heart of the elven civilization? _Me?_ I've only just gotten the Varden to trust me. Can you even fathom how long it would take to convince the elves of my trustworthiness? Years, perhaps. No... Eragon, I cannot go with you." I watched as my words sank in and his face fell.

   "You're right," he said, completely dejected. "It isn't safe."

   "It isn't the place, Eragon... it's me." His eyes flicked up to my face.

   "Don't say that, Tabby."

   "It's true, though," I countered. "No matter where I go, there's always some sort of danger, and it's not because of the location. It's my fault... It's because of who I am..." I looked away from him, ashamed of myself for reasons I didn't understand. "Perhaps it would be better if we didn't see each other at all anymore."

   "Don't you dare say that," he replied darkly, his tone actually frightening me a bit. "I'm not going to stop being your friend just because of what other people may say or think."

   "It's not that simple, Eragon," I said calmly, trying to make him understand. "It doesn't matter what you think or what you want. With Murtagh... it was different. But with you, it's complicated. You have a reputation to uphold; a position to maintain; a country to inspire to revolt against tyranny! That tyranny is engineered by my own flesh and blood, and if you are known to associate with me... it could give the wrong impression."

   "Damn them all and their impressions!" he spat. "I would vouch for you until the end of my days. You know this, Tabatha!"

   "It's better this way," I whispered. "We must think of more people than just you and I, Eragon. Now we must be strong... for Alagaesia, and for each other." The anger on his face was replaced by immeasurable sadness.

   "I know," he finally replied, hanging his head. The weight of our words hung in the air, and then suddenly came crashing down about our shoulders. I felt as though it was crushing me. But I had to remain strong. This was the only way. "Will you come to send me off tomorrow?" His eyes pleaded with me pitifully, and I was almost enticed to agree.

   "I can't," I breathed, my voice sounding discordant to my own ears. "We must learn to distance ourselves, and this is the first step. This... this is goodbye."

   "When will we see each other again?" he asked desperately.

   "We shouldn't see each other again, Eragon. Don't you see? Things are... different now. We can't... we can't be friends ever again," I replied, feeling the tears welling in my eyes. Slowly, he nodded his head.

   "I understand, Tabby..." he mumbled. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug, feeling his heart beat against my chest. This was my best friend since childhood, and I would never see him again. He returned the embrace earnestly, and I felt him shaking. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember, Tabatha. I can't believe this is goodbye. I'm so sorry for everything I put you through." I laughed shortly and pulled away to look into his eyes.

   "It was my choice to come with you, Eragon. Remember? Besides, I wouldn't have traded any of it for the world." That gained me a smile from him.

   "Me neither," he replied. Slowly, he put his forehead against mine and took a deep breath, just the way Murtagh had only a couple weeks ago. When he'd been living and breathing and stood before me just like Eragon was. I felt a shot of pain go through my chest, and the tears come to my eyes. "I will miss you more than you can know, Tabatha. You've been the best friend anyone could ask for...even the lying parts." He laughed slightly and I gave him a small slap on the arm. Same old Eragon.

   "I will miss you too," I returned. "Maybe when this is all over, we can find a way to be friends again." He pulled away from me then and stepped back out into the hall.

   "Maybe," he affirmed. "I have to go and prepare for the journey. We leave early in the morning."

   "Tell Saphira thank you for everything, and that I will miss her greatly." He smiled slightly.

   "She knows, Tabby. As Murtagh did when he left..." The words sent a shock through my system, and I saw that there was more he wanted to say. "Tabby, I'm sorry that I haven't been truthful with you."

   "What is it Eragon?"

   "Before he left... Murtagh wanted me to tell you that he wished to speak with you upon his return." My heart hammered in my chest at the thought of that conversation that would never happen. What could he have wanted to say to me? What would we have spoken of? "I cannot guess as to what he wanted to discuss. But he wanted me to tell you that it was real for him. All of it. I don't understand what he meant, but I'm guessing that you do." The tears were flowing now as I recalled our passionate kiss in the hallway. "I'm sorry I kept it from you, Tabby. I don't know why I did it."

   "It's all right, Eragon," I replied, giving him a sad smile. "What's done is done. It's all in the past now. I just hope you can forgive me for the wrongs I have done you in the past as well."

   "Always." I smiled at that and he made to leave. "Goodbye, Tabby."

   "Goodbye, Eragon." With one last fleeting glance, he was gone. Just like that, every slight trace of my old life in Carvahall was gone, just as the person I used to be was gone as well. Eragon and I would never see each other again, more than likely. But this was the way it had to be.

 

* * *

 

   Gregorio and Isabelle were quite pleased that I'd decided to stay with the Varden. Isabelle and I had developed somewhat of a friendship, and I was glad to have her to talk to. Gregorio, on the other hand, was strangely distant. I'd tried to engage him in small conversations, but he was avoiding me.

   On the day that Eragon left, I stood up in the gallery and watched them depart. Arya led their caravan, and Saphira lumbered behind. They didn't spare a glance behind, but that was all right. They would have no way of knowing I was standing there. They disappeared into one of the tunnels, and the last glimpse I had of them was the tip of Saphira's blue-scaled tail. And then they were gone, as though they had never been there to begin with. As I stood at the edge of the gallery, I sensed a presence coming up behind me. When I turned to look, it was not who I expected at all.

   "Lady Nasuada," I exclaimed, bowing deeply. I knew who she was immediately by the dark pigment of her skin that was so like her father's. She looked very much like him, except for her eyes. They were kinder and gentler, having not been hardened by the sight of war and death as her father's had been.

   "Hello, Tabatha," she said softly. "There is no need to bow." I straightened myself and looked her in the eye.

   "It is good to finally meet you, my lady," I said uncertainly. How does one treat a lady in her position?

   "And to you, the same." She gave me a small smile. "Will you walk with me?" she asked, slightly turning away. Her hands were clasped demurely in front of her, but there was a strength to her voice that belied her inner resolve. I knew immediately that she would make a great leader of the Varden.

   "Of course," I replied, coming to her side. We began to walk along the length of the gallery, the shadows from the pillars casting darkness on our features. As we passed other members of the Varden, they stopped to acknowledge their new leader, and I couldn't help but think how drab and plain I must have looked next to her in her fine gown of crimson silk. Once the crowds thinned out, she began to speak again.

   "I wanted to thank you personally, Tabatha," she began, keeping her eyes straight ahead. "Eragon told me much about you before he left. He said you are loyal to a fault, and a great warrior on top of that. I have also heard from others who have informed me of your service to my father during the recent battle."

   "I was sorry to hear of his passing," I said, remembering the niceties Aunt Elain had taken such great care to instill in me. "I offer you my condolences."

   "They are much appreciated." We took a few more strides before she continued. "I offer my condolences to you as well," she stated softly, "for the loss of your friend: Murtagh."

   "He was much more than a friend, my lady," I whispered. She halted at my words and turned to face me for the first time since we'd begun our walk.

   "Then I am doubly sorry," she said. I knew her words were genuine, and I was surprised at her stark kindness.

   "Thank you, my lady."

   She laughed slightly; a high, musical sound. "It is still strange to me to be called 'my lady'. That will take some getting used to."

   "You already carry yourself like a great lady. It will be a simple transition for people," I determined. She smiled at that.

   "I have come to ask something of you, Tabatha," she stated. Something in her voice had changed, but I waited for her to go on. "You have already been of great service to my father, and I am inclined to believe you would do the same for me. Considering your... parentage, it will not be easy for others of my council to trust you. But I am willing to vouch for you, should you pledge your services to me. Angela has told me of your... episode, upon hearing of Murtagh's death. It seems you are a magic user?"

   "I had no idea of it, my lady," I explained hastily. "That was the first I'd ever seen of it. As you may well know, I was unaware of who my father was until a few short months ago. Brom told me on our journey here. He was the one who rescued me from Galbatorix's clutches as a baby."

   "Then I am even more so inclined to trust you, if Brom put his faith in you. He was not often wrong about people." She smiled fondly, and I wondered how well she had known him.

   "As for my powers," I continued. "I know nothing of them, or how to use them to aid you."

   "Angela has told me of a man in Surda; a Lord Braeden. It seems he was somehow connected to your mother, and may know a thing or two about these powers of yours. If he were to train you, would you fight for me?" She stopped suddenly and turned to face me, eyes scrutinizing me intensely. I couldn't tell what it was, but there was something about this girl—for she couldn't have been more than a year older than I was—that I was drawn to. I could trust her, and she may have been my one chance at redemption amongst these people.

   "Yes, I will," I stated plainly. This seemed to satisfy her, for she beamed widely.

   "Good. I look forward to our future interactions." With that, she swept her skirts and departed towards the staircase. That wasn't what I was expecting at all, but I had the strange sense that my old life had ended and a new one was just beginning.

 


	27. The Family of Friends

It had taken a full week, but we were finally getting on the move today. The Varden was a hub of activity inside the mountain. People were moving about constantly, making whatever last minute preparations they thought were necessary. As for myself, Isabelle was helping me pack up the few belongings I had. Most of the clothes she had retrieved for me fit nicely inside my pack. She'd also given me a brush to try and tame my unruly locks of hair. As we sat in my room for the last time, she helped me pull out the tangles at the ends. It was getting so long since we'd left Carvahall; it was down to the middle of my back now.

"I wish my hair looked like this," Isabelle mused quietly.

"Believe me," I scoffed, "it's more trouble than it's worth." She only smiled and then pulled my soft waves of brown hair back into a horsetail. The leather strip I'd had with me since Carvahall helped to hold the hair back out of my face. When that was finished, we were finally ready to go. Isabelle swung her own pack over her shoulder and I hefted mine up. The last thing I picked up was laying on the bed, the polish shining in the lanternlight. With a pounding heart, I reached down to it: Murtagh's bow.

This was the last piece of him I had. Everything else was gone. There wasn't even a body to bury, as they'd never found him, and all attempts to scry him had been fruitless. The bow felt light in my hands, and I ran my palm over the sanded surface. It curved slowly and gracefully, and the leather grip was worn where his strong hand had gripped it so many times before. I could almost still feel his spirit within it, crying out to me. I would hold onto this bow, and treasure it until my last days.

"Are you ready?" Isabelle asked, standing by the open door and holding the lantern aloft to bathe the room in a warm orange glow one last time. I looked around the little room—that had once been Murtagh's—and sighed heavily.

"I've grown fond of this place," I admitted. "This was the first place I'd had a real bed in a long time and... Murtagh died here. This mountain is his final resting place. I'm loathe to go, but I know that we must. Perhaps I'll come back one day, for a final goodbye."

"Do not be melancholy," she said kindly. "I think you'll like Surda." I nodded slightly and then turned away from the room, following Isabelle and her lantern out into the hall. It was filled with people trekking down to the lower levels, and we soon melded into the crowd.

"You've been to Surda before?" I asked, adding my voice to the rising chorus all around me.

"I was born there," she explained. "My parents died when I was eleven, from the Sand Fever. One day, Angela came to Aberon and found me trying to run my parents' apothecary shop. Although I was a terrible businesswoman at twelve, she said that I had a knack for dealing with herbs and offered to take me on as an apprentice. There was nothing left for me in Surda; I had no family or friends to speak of. And I longed for adventure as a young girl. So I agreed. Part of me thinks she only offered because that strange cat of hers talked to me." That gave me a start. I'd read about talking cats before, but I had always thought they were just myths.

"A werecat?" I asked to confirm my suspicions.

"Yes, I believe that is what Solembum is," she replied.

"That's a very rare occurrence, Isabelle. Werecats don't talk to just anyone. You have to be very special," I said, watching her out of the corner of my eye to try and see what her reaction would be. She barely even blinked.

"Hmm," was the only reply I got and so I decided to drop the subject. When we reached the main hall, Angela quickly came over to us.

"There you two are," she chided in a very motherly tone, putting an arm around Isabelle's and my shoulders. "Come along quickly. We've got a long journey in front of us." I saw a little boy following behind her. He had shaggy, black hair and large yellow eyes, and I knew that this must be the werecat Isabelle had spoken of. He looked over at me, and blinked his huge, feline eyes a couple of times.

 _'The Oathbreaker's Daughter,'_ a voice said within my head. _'What an interesting addition to our group.'_ I was surprised at the strange contact, but I knew this must be the werecat speaking to me.

 _'I hold no allegiance to my father,'_ I retorted quickly. He cocked his head to the side and inspected my face.

 _'We shall see,'_ the masculine voice replied. In an instant, he had transformed into his cat form—a shaggy black beast of a creature—and bounded away in front of us. _How odd..._

Gregorio caught up with us shortly, and I was relieved to see he had managed to snag a cart. We loaded all of our belongings into the cart that was being pulled by a small donkey, and then joined the massive caravan of people, wagons, carts, and animals.

"Hello," he said cheerily, smiling widely. "Aren't you glad I managed to find this?"

"Ecstatic," Isabelle said, throwing the last of her small packs into the bed of the wooden cart. I had put my things in as well, all except for Murtagh's bow. That I was going to keep as close as possible. It was sitting unstrung inside his quiver, along with the grey-fletched arrows he preferred. We knew that they hadn't found all of the Urgals in the tunnels, and I wasn't going to be taking any chances.

"Tabatha?" Gregorio's voice cut through my thoughts. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I lied, giving him my most convincing smile. "Just sad to be leaving. I'd grown fond of this place."

"But we're going on an adventure!" Isabelle replied joyously. "I'm so glad to be going home. It's been quite a while. Perhaps we'll even have time for me to show you where our shop used to be."

I had to laugh at her infectious joy. "We're going to be in Surda for quite a while, Isabelle. I think we'll have plenty of time to do whatever you'd like."

"I'm sad to be going," Gregorio chimed in. "This is my home, after all. But I suppose it will be good for me to get away from where my mother died." His words were tinged with sorrow, but there was something else in his voice. Something that I couldn't quite place and that only heightened my mistrust of him. I was normally good at telling when people were lying, but he was hard for me to read... Just as Murtagh had been.

 _'Don't listen to him,'_ the voice in my head said, nagging at the back of my mind. _'He isn't telling you the truth. You cannot trust him.'_ I pushed the annoying little voice to the back of my mind, but I didn't forget it completely. I'd have to keep an eye on this guard from now on.

"Surda has some of the best horses in all of Alagaesia," Isabelle chimed merrily. There was a slight skip in her step now, and I could almost feel her excitement buzzing off of her.

"I need a horse," I mused sadly to myself, thinking of Cadoc.

"Perhaps you can find one while we're there," Gregorio offered. I merely nodded.

"Maybe," I muttered. The crowds were moving at a steadier pace now, the pounding of feet reverberating against the ground. I could just make out Nasuada's form atop her horse entering the tunnel, followed by her entourage of advisors. We moved along as the crowd surged forward, funneling down into the small opening of the tunnel. It was quite a feat to try and move all of these people simultaneously.

The tunnels were dimly lit with those odd blue lanterns I'd seen before. It was nearly impossible to make out much of anything too far ahead of us. We just kept on moving at our steady pace, our footsteps echoing off the stone walls. My memory floated back to when Murtagh and I had ridden through these tunnels upon Tornac. The closeness of our bodies had made me shudder, and that was the first time I'd really admitted to myself that my feelings for Murtagh ran deeper than mere friendship. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away. Could I ever be free of the memory of him? I didn't think so. He had been my first love, and he'd been stolen from me by a cruel twist of fate. Our little group remained silent in the blackness of the tunnels, each of us absorbed in our own thoughts. But I preferred it that way. At least I could mourn in peace, one last time.

 

* * *

 

When we finally emerged into the sun, two things suddenly overwhelmed me: the light and the fresh air. I'd been in that mountain fortress for so long; I'd almost forgotten what it was like to breathe fresh air. The sun warmed my skin, and I lifted my face up to it, reveling in the beauty of the day. My surroundings stood out in stark relief, as though I was seeing everything with new eyes. I glanced over at Gregorio and saw that his hair looked lighter in the sun, instead of a dark brown, and his brown eyes looked almost hazel. I was seeing the people I'd met in Farthen Dur in an entirely different way. And, for the first time, I was excited about our journey.

We stopped to make camp as the sun was going down behind the high peaks of the Beor Mountains. Dusk came so early here, that I wasn't sure what time it was exactly. I helped Gregorio with the fire and unloading our bedrolls to lay out on the hard ground. Isabelle made a delicious soup for us, and then we all settled in for the night.

As I looked around, I couldn't help but notice what a ragtag group of people we really were. There were many peasant farmers that had been forced from their homes by the Empire. They and their families were just trying to seek refuge from Galbatorix's tyranny, and this was the only safe place for them. But then there were others. There were warriors, like Frederic, and there were also magicians in the group Du Vrangr Gata. And then there were people like me... Those with no place to go and searching for vengeance. Suddenly, I was very glad to be amongst these people. We all shared a common goal, and we would have to work together in order to accomplish that goal. For the first time in a long time, I felt as though I had a purpose in this world.

 

* * *

 

It took a couple of weeks at our slow pace to get to Surda. This country was like the outskirts of the Hadarac Desert all over the place. It was very dry and arid, like a high desert without all of the sand. My lungs felt strange at this higher altitude, but I was sure I would get used to it eventually; I didn't really have any other option. After all, where else did I have to go? Home? I wasn't sure where that was exactly. Was it Carvahall with my aunt, uncle, and cousins? It certainly wasn't in Uru'baen with my father. Or was it with Eragon, wherever he may be? I wasn't sure...

As we came into the capital city of Aberon, I could see on Isabelle's face that she was excited to be home. Her eyes were alight with happiness as she gazed around at all the buildings around us. I looked to those that watched as we passed on the street or in windows. Their eyes were far less friendly.

We kept on following the crowd until we came upon the gates of a huge castle, its spires reaching up towards the heavens. This could only be the home of King Orrin, the ruler of Surda.

"Is this where we're staying?" I asked Isabelle breathlessly. She was also gazing up in awe and wonder at the size of the castle.

"I suppose so," she whispered. "I've always seen this place from afar... I can't imagine what it's like to live here." We filed through the wrought iron gates to the main courtyard where everyone was gathering.

"Angela," I said, turning to her. "Do you know if this is where we are staying?"

"I believe so, but not everyone will stay," she explained, gazing around as people were already turning and going back out the gates. "Now that we're in a large city, many will leave the Varden to try and find work and a new life for their families. I would venture to say only those of a fighting capacity will remain."

I couldn't help but think that even those who would fight were trying to make a new life for their families. I knew that I was, at least for myself. Now that I was out of the Empire, I felt like I could breathe again. There would be no soldiers searching for me to try and take me to Uru'baen. I was finally free from the reach of my father! It felt wonderful, and I was starting to feel safe in this big family of ours.


	28. Brooding Nobles and Wild Horses

Isabelle was showing me around the city on a warm day. It wasn't as though it was ever cold in Surda, and I was highly enjoying it. Summer was well on its way by now, and the days were getting longer and hotter. We had been here for a fortnight, and I loved it so far. The weather was beautiful, I got to see my friends regularly, and no one was hunting me down. Gregorio was acting very moody lately, and he'd been given a regular guard station, so we didn't see him much. But Isabelle and I spent nearly every day together. The thought of Eragon was slowly but surely slipping from my mind, as I'd resolved myself to forget him, but Murtagh was ever prevalent in my mind. I'd been dreaming about him lately, and every time it ended with his death at the bottom of the black pit. I'd awake in a sweating terror, and Isabelle would help calm me down, but nothing I did ever got rid of the nightmares. They had become part of my routine now.

As we made our way through the sprawling and lively city, Isabelle brought me to a giant coliseum that towered over every building near it. There were massive throngs of people moving in and out of the huge structure, all of them going on their merry way with smiles upon their faces.

"What is this place?" I asked Isabelle as we walked under the giant archway that served as the main entrance. Before us was a huge marble statue of a horse on its hind legs, pawing at the air.

"This is Surda's famous Horse Market," she explained. "I thought perhaps that you could find a horse."

"Oh," I breathed in surprise, looking over at her. "Thank you, Isabelle. That's so kind of you." She smiled in response as we continued into the stands, finding a seat on the front row. I leaned against the low wall separating us from the sand-filled arena and craned my neck to look around. The bowl of the coliseum was low and wide, stretching out far behind us. And there was a man with a booming voice standing in the very middle of the arena, shouting names of different types of horses and their prices. Looking beyond him, I saw a group of indifferent-looking people loitering beneath a midnight blue canopy stretched above them. "Who are they?" I asked her, pointing over to the group that was mostly made up of men.

"Oh, them," Isabelle replied with a hint of disgust. "Those are the Surdan nobles. The horse traders also sit there." I nodded absent-mindedly, gazing around at the various horses prancing around the arena. They came in from an opening at the far end and then trotted around the outer edges of the arena, their master's groomsmen showing them off to the gaping crowds. I watched as the magnificent creatures went by right in front of us, noting the grace and elegance with which many of them moved. But that wasn't what I was looking for in a horse. If I was to get a horse—and it would have to be relatively inexpensive—it would have to be a war horse, of the same lot as Tornac. I would be riding this horse into the battles that were invariably to come; it would have to be quick, strong, agile, but also have a sort of beauty about it. And none of these horses seemed to match the criteria.

"Do you see anything you like?" Isabelle asked. I shook my head, keeping my eyes fixed on the arena.

"Not yet. But I'm sure I'll know it when I do," I reassured her.

The hours wore on, and the sun slowly sank in the Surdan sky. The deep purples and oranges of twilight were creeping overhead when a particular horse caught my eye—caught everyone's eye really. He was a beautiful, jet black stallion, and he was causing quite the commotion near the nobles' canopy. The stallion reared onto his back legs, neighing wildly and pawing the air with massive, powerful hooves. The handlers ran around frantically to try and control the horse, but they were doing a poor job of it. Then the horse pulled at his restraint, dragging the handlers to the middle of the arena.

"Get that beast out of here!" a man cried, standing up from his seat beneath the canopy. I didn't know what came over me, but for some inexplicable reason I jumped up out of my own seat. Before I realized what I was saying, the words were coming out of my mouth and I was powerless to stop them.

"No!" I screamed, holding my hand out to grab their attention. The arena went silent, all except the whinnies of the horse. "I'll take him!" The man stared at me slack-jawed.

"My lady!" he called to me from across the arena. "That beast cannot be ridden. You would surely be thrown from his back and injured!" I smirked at the man.

"What know you of my riding skills? You discredit me because I am a woman?" I demanded, earning a few chuckles from the crowd. "I can assure you, sir: I will ride that horse!" The stallion suddenly reared into the air, pulling free from one of his handlers. The nobleman laughed to his companions beneath the shade of the canopy.

"Very well, my lady," he said, making an elegant bow where he swept his arm far out to the side. "If you can tame the beast and ride him, I will give you the horse, for he belongs to me at the moment. You ride him, and he is yours." The nobles and horse traders under the blue canopy laughed raucously amongst themselves, but the rest of the coliseum was silent.

"I accept your offer," I said, surprising myself with the nobility that shone through my tone. Isabelle tugged at my sleeve nervously.

"Tabby," she whispered, trying not to draw attention to herself, "what are you doing? That animal could kill you! Not only is he a Methras, but he's huge!" I had no idea what a Methras was, but she was certainly right about one thing: the horse was one of the biggest destriers I'd ever seen. But something drew me to the beast, and I wasn't about to let neither her— nor anybody else—stop me from riding that horse.

"Don't worry, Isabelle," I said, smirking playfully. "I know what I'm doing." Her gaze told me that she wasn't convinced, but I ignored her. Quickly, I hopped over the low wall and fell the short distance into the arena. I made my way confidently to where the handlers were trying to control the horse, aware that every eye in the coliseum was fastened on me. I paid them no mind and focused completely on the black stallion.

As I drew closer to the horse, I held out my hand in a gesture of friendship. Even an animal could tell who was friend and who was foe. He continued to jerk his head up and down and rear into the sky. I could tell he was only scared of the environment he'd been thrust into.

"Shh," I cooed soothingly. The horse fixed his intense, brown gaze on me. Little nervous whinnies still escaped from his throat, but he had stopped fidgeting at least. "It's all right." Slowly and hesitantly, I placed my hand on the tip of his nose. He jerked his head up, retreating from the unfamiliar feel of my hand. But I persisted, putting my hand on his soft nose again. This time, he allowed me to keep it there. I moved in closer and patted the side of his face, moving my hand into his silky mane and scratching his neck. It was remarkable how much he'd calmed down. "There you go," I said softly. It didn't really matter what I was saying, he just needed to hear my voice and know that I was a friend.

Cautiously, I opened my consciousness to him to let him know that it was safe. I wasn't going to hurt him. The contact of his mind was so strange, but I could tell he was calm now. I sent him mental images to let him know that I was going to ride him now, and he let out a little nicker and then slightly angled himself so I could climb up to his back. Grabbing hold of his mane, I used all the strength in my arms to swing up onto his bare back. Without a saddle, it was extremely difficult. But I made it, and a hushed whisper of shock rippled through the gathered crowd. The man that had offered me the horse was staring wide-eyed at me.

I goaded the horse forward with a light kick to his haunches, hanging on tightly to his mane and squeezing my thighs so I wouldn't fall off. The horse went into a trot but I coaxed him further, eventually working him into a canter, and then finally into a full on gallop around the arena. The crowds cheered as we passed by, the horse's mane and tail blowing in the wind. When we'd done a full lap, I stopped in front of the area where the blue canopy was and where the owner of the horse was still standing in shock. I stared him down boldly with a slightly smug expression on my face.

"Will you honor our bargain?" I demanded loudly, so everyone in the arena could hear. The man slowly walked to the edge of the wall and ran a hand down the horse's side, looking at him in confusion.

"I have never seen such a miraculous thing," he said quietly. "This horse has given me trouble since the day I found him out in the desert. No one has been able to control him, let alone ride upon his back. You are truly gifted, my lady."

"Please," I snapped, "I am no lady." I could tell the man had a good heart, but the honorific did not suit me.

"You surely speak and carry yourself as one," he said, looking up into my face for the first time. When he looked at me, something caught in his breath. "And surely, you are as beautiful—if not more so—than all of them." Something told me he wasn't trying to flatter me, but rather that he was trying to tell me something. "Please, my lady, I would be honored if you would join me for dinner at my home this evening." I considered his offer for a moment as the horse shifted nervously beneath me. Whatever he was trying to tell me, I needed to find out what it was.

I put on a smile. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure," I said. He looked pleased.

"One of my stewards will meet you out front with the address of my home," he said, gesturing behind him for a servant. That's when I noticed the piercing grey eyes staring at me. I nearly fainted because, for a moment, I thought that it was Murtagh—they certainly looked a lot alike—but there were subtle differences that only I—who was utterly and unabashedly in love with the son of Morzan—would notice. My attention was drawn back to the servant and his master.

"Forgive me, sir, but I do not even know your name," I said.

"How rude of me," he replied. "I am Lord Braeden." My heart stopped as I realized this was the man Angela had told me to find. I'd never dreamed that it would be this simple. But fate had a funny way of playing with my life.

"It is an honor to meet you," I intoned, inclining my head in respect. "My name is Tabatha." He smiled slightly and nodded.

"Dinner is at eight." I nodded shortly and assured him I would be there before spurring the horse forward. I looked one more time for those eyes that reminded me so much of Murtagh, but the mysterious young man was nowhere to be found. Feeling slightly sad, I headed out of the arena. Isabelle was waiting at the exit of the tunnel for me, along with a finely dressed steward. The steward handed me a piece of parchment and bowed. Then, without saying a word, he turned and left.

Isabelle eyed me suspiciously as I pulled beside her. "Yes?" I asked innocently, jumping off the horse.

"You know exactly what," she snapped, glaring at me. "You could've been killed back there. But do you care? No! _Tabatha fears nothing!_ " I stared at her calmly, blinking slowly.

"You're making quite the spectacle of yourself," I said coolly. "Now, please calm down. I haven't the slightest clue what a Methras is, but obviously it can't be that bad if I was able to ride one."

"The Methras are only the rarest and most sought after horses in all of Surda, Alagaesia, and possibly the world. Not only are they rare, but they are also nearly impossible to catch. If one is to catch a Methras, it is completely impossible to ride. They won't have it. They are as wild as the wind itself."

"Well, obviously it's not impossible to ride them, since I just did," I said slowly. We walked on in silence to the gates of the arena, where I was given the tack that went along with the horse. The saddle and bridle were black as night, with silver filigree in looping patterns around the edges. The stirrups and bit were made of pure silver and the blanket to put under the saddle was a scarlet red. The horse cooperated as I saddled him up and then walked in front of him. We made our way back to the royal palace, which wasn't too far.

When we got back, I realized I didn't have much time to prepare for dinner with Lord Braeden. "Isabelle!" I whispered hurriedly as I handed the horse off to a groom. "I need your help to get ready." She looked at me in confusion.

"For what? Where are you going?" she asked. I showed her the piece of parchment and her eyes went wide.

"Lord Braeden has invited me to dine with him this evening," I explained. She scanned the paper and then noticed the seal at the bottom of the page.

"Lord Braeden? He was the owner of the horse?" she asked, her voice full of shock. "Tabatha, this is a huge deal. He's the king's right hand man, and he certainly doesn't invite just anyone over for dinner. You would have to be someone of great importance..."

"You think he knows who I am?" I asked in concern. Even though my father didn't have soldiers down here, that didn't mean he didn't have supporters.

"I don't know..." she said hesitantly. "But it could explain why he invited you over."

"He was very impressed with my skills as a rider... Perhaps he just wants to talk about horses?" I didn't sound very convincing, even to myself.

"I'm not so sure," she replied. "But you cannot refuse him for fear of offending one of the most powerful men in the court. I would be wary if I were you, Tabby." By this time we were walking briskly through the corridors towards the room we both shared.

Isabelle rifled around in her closet for a little bit while I sat impatiently on my small bed. After a few more minutes, she came out with a satisfied grin on her face. "Finally, I found it!" she exclaimed triumphantly. She then held up the most beautiful gown I'd ever seen. It was black velvet over blue satin with a square neckline and lacing up the front. The sleeves were long and billowed out at the ends, and all over the blue satin was black embroidery depicting vines and leaves. The edges of the neckline and sleeves were trimmed in white ribbon. Although I had detested dresses in the past, I thought that I might enjoy wearing this one. After all, I couldn't dress in a tunic and breeches for dinner with a lord.

"Oh," I said breathlessly, "Isabelle, it's absolutely beautiful! Where on earth did you get it?" A sad sort of smile spread over her face.

"It was my mother's wedding gown," she replied sadly. I froze, my heart skipping a few beats.

"Isabelle, I can't wear that. It was your mother's!"

"No, no," she insisted, "I want you to wear it. Besides, it's the nicest thing either of us has, and you need to look beautiful tonight—well, more beautiful than normal, I mean." Hesitantly, I took the dress from her and she helped me into it. I borrowed one of her corsets, which was much tighter than mine, and served to push my chest up almost over the neckline. Otherwise, the dress fit me perfectly. Isabelle helped me to do my hair into two braids that went along the side of my head and met at the nape of my neck into an elaborate bun. I borrowed a pair of her slippers. Then she powdered my face and lined my eyes with kohl. When she stepped away, I inspected myself in the mirror and hardly recognized myself. I looked...pretty. "You look beautiful, Tabby," she said quietly. "Now come on, you've got to get going."

She walked me to the gate of the castle and waved me off. I mounted my newly acquired horse—sidesaddle, of course—and draped my skirt over his foreleg. I waved back at her over my shoulder and set off into the city in search of Lord Braeden's house.

 

* * *

 

I arrived and a stable boy took my horse round the back to be watered and fed. The horse whinnied nervously and I sent him feelings of calm before they disappeared around the corner. When I banged the heavy brass knocker on the front door, it swung open and I was greeted by a butler.

"Welcome, Lady Tabatha," he said. I didn't understand why everyone around here insisted on calling me "lady", but it seemed it did no good to tell them any differently. I thanked the butler and then gazed around the entrance hall. This place was huge... There was a shining chandelier hanging from the vaulted ceiling, and a grand staircase ran up the middle of the room, splitting off into two separate wings at the top. While I was admiring the beauty of the room, Lord Braeden entered from a side door.

"Welcome, my lady," he said warmly, a broad smile lighting up his rugged, yet handsome, features. I curtsied, feeling like I ought to. It surprised me how easily all of this nobility stuff came to me. But I supposed I was born with it... My father was a king, after all.

"Please, Lord Braeden, I beg of you. There is no need to call me 'my lady'. I assure you, I am not nobility," I said. He looked me up and down for a moment.

"I'm sure," he said softly. He said this so quietly that I wasn't even sure I'd heard him. "Please, let us go to the dining room. Dinner will be served shortly." He took me by the hand and held it at a level just below his shoulder, leading me through a great door on the right wall of the main entryway. A butler opened it and we walked through.

Inside was a gigantic table in the middle of the room; it would have easily fit twenty people, if not more. A fire burned brightly in its hearth at the head of the table. What I was not expecting to see, however, was another person seated in the chair to the right of the one at the head of the table. He stood as Lord Braeden and I entered the room and walked around to pull out the chair I assumed I would be sitting in.

"Lady Tabatha," Lord Braeden announced, continuing with the honorific that I so detested, "I would like to introduce you to my son and heir, Miles." Braeden's son took me by the hand and gently kissed it like a gentleman. The room was dimly lit, and I couldn't rightly see his face. When he stood up straight, the firelight caught his face so that I could see it... and I was nearly knocked off my feet; I was staring into those grey eyes I'd seen at the coliseum earlier.

"It's a pleasure, m'lady," he said, his voice deep and rich. But there was a certain edge to it, and his face was hard as stone, all except for his eyes. They cut into me... just the way that Murtagh's had. I found that I couldn't say anything; so stunned was I by how similar he and Murtagh were. Miles' personality was even the same as when I'd first met Murtagh: haughty and mysterious. He released my hand and took his seat at the right hand of his father's chair. Lord Braeden pushed in my chair as I sat and then took his own seat.

"Well, this is pleasant, isn't it?" he said, looking back and forth between his son and me. I smiled at Braeden and assured him that it was. When I looked at Miles, he was simply staring at me darkly. I couldn't figure out if I'd done something to offend him, or if that was simply his charming personality. With great effort, I tore myself away from his mysterious gaze and looked back at Lord Braeden.

"My lord," I said. "I was wondering about something. Why, exactly, did you invite me here for dinner? I am not sure that I have done anything to deserve such an honor." He laughed brightly and then stole a quick glance at his son.

"Well, it is—at least in part—because of the great skill with horses that you showed at the Market today," he explained, taking a bite of a piece of fruit I didn't recognize. There was a kindness in his voice, and something pleasant about his mouth when he spoke, that made me like him immediately. "I am very interested in the subject of horses, as I'm sure you have deduced for yourself, and would like to talk to you about your very...interesting methods."

"Well...that is quite a subject," I replied, laughing nervously. "But you stated that was only part of the reason. What is the other?" At this, he hesitated, biting his lower lip.

"We shall get to that later. For now, let us eat," he proclaimed joyously.

The food was marvelous; probably some of the best I'd ever had, and Lord Braeden was very sociable. We talked of all things horses, though I had little to say. How could I reveal to him how I'd calmed the horse with my mind?

"Surdan horses are truly the most magnificent creatures that I've ever seen," I said as we worked on the second course of the three-course meal.

"Absolutely," Braeden replied. "In my travels through the Empire, I saw many a fine beast. But none could match the beauty and power of Surdan horses, especially the Methras."

"How did you come across the Methras I got from you today?" I asked him interestedly. If they truly were as wild as Isabelle had said, then perhaps this Lord Braeden had some mental prowess of his own.

"Oh, that is a long story," Braeden laughed. "I collect horses to sell at the Horse Market as part of my living, in tandem with my estate. But I enjoy it; it gives me something to do in my free time, which seems to be growing nowadays." He laughed again and looked over at his son, but Miles didn't seem to be terribly amused. He was still staring me down; studying me as if he was searching for something. Braeden coughed awkwardly and then returned to his tale. "Anyways, I go into the deserts of Surda routinely; the best horses are always there. One day, I was there with my caravan of Catchers when I spotted this magnificent black stallion standing atop a sand dune. I knew instantly that I wanted to add him to my collection, but I also instantly knew what he was: a Methras. We all knew how hard it would be to catch him, but the prize would be well worth it if we could. So, with our goal clear in our minds, we set out to catch him.

"We tracked the stallion for three days, trailing at a distance and moving by night. But somehow, he always knew just when we were about to come up on him. And then..." Lord Braeden paused here for dramatic effect. "One night, we came upon the beast while he was sleeping. I myself did the honor of slipping the first rope around his neck. The horse awoke and went into a frenzy, but we were able to tie him down somehow." Braeden gesticulated wildly with his arms, which reminded me of Brom in a way. "After that, it was simply a matter of keeping him locked up. Then we brought him to the Horse Market, and the rest you know." I smiled widely at him.

"That is quite a tale," I agreed, taking a small bite off of my fork.

"Yes, and one that I do love to tell. Which reminds me, I would very much like to know how you calmed the horse," he asked, folding his hands beneath his chin. At this, Miles sat forward in his chair.

"Well, that I really can't say," I lied, shrugging innocently. "I merely tried to convey to the beast that I was a friend and meant him no harm. Obviously, the horse couldn't understand my words, but I suppose he got my general meaning. He is a beautiful creature and I am very pleased that I have him." I waited for him to reply, and I wondered how long it would be before he mentioned how he knew my mother as Angela had suggested he did.

"Yes, well my men were becoming tired of trying to contain him, so I'm very pleased that I found an owner who can," Braeden said, still studying me carefully. By now, the dessert had come and we turned to stories of our childhoods.

Braeden explained to me how he'd grown up in the Empire, but had fled to Surda as a young man under threat of being drafted into the Imperial Army. The king here was most welcoming and he quickly advanced through the court to become a noble in his own right. When he asked me about where I came from, I lied and told him I'd grown up in a small village near the capital city, and fled to the Varden a few months ago. At least the last part was true. Miles, of course, said nothing.

When dessert was over, Braeden stretched his hands out behind his head. "Well, Lady Tabatha, would you mind joining me in the library? There is a certain book about the Methras I think you would find most helpful in caring for your horse. I'd like very much to show it to you." He stood and offered his outstretched hand.

"I would love that," I replied, taking his hand and allowing him to pull out my chair. If I wasn't so terrified of my father, I think I would have rather enjoyed being a lady.

"I think I will retire for the evening, Father," Miles said, standing from his chair. That was the most I'd heard him speak throughout the entire evening.

"Very well, Miles. Don't forget, we're visiting the estate tomorrow," Braeden said.

"I won't" the young man replied gruffly. Miles walked over and bowed before me stiffly, taking my free hand and kissing it lightly.

"Goodnight, Lady Tabatha," he said, standing up straight and looking into my eyes. I felt myself swoon slightly and had to steady myself against Braeden's shoulder. I knew I was only acting this way because he looked so much like Murtagh, but I couldn't help myself.

"Goodnight, sir," I replied, unsure exactly what his title was. I gave a small curtsy, trying to remember where I'd learned to do that, and then he left, walking briskly away as if there was some virulent and contagious disease in the room.

"Come along," Lord Braeden beckoned, pulling me out of the room and up the sweeping grand staircase. I expected to see Miles hurrying up the stairs in front of us, but he'd mysteriously disappeared; both he and Murtagh had a knack for doing that. The little voice in my mind told me I needed to stop talking about Murtagh as though he was still alive, but I just couldn't get him out of my mind.

Braeden led me into the huge library of his home. The bookshelves reached all the way to the ceiling, ladders adorning each one. And there were all the books I could ever possibly want to read. "Oh my," I breathed quietly, "this is... amazing!" I hurried over to the shelves and inspected all the different books. I'm sure I looked like quite the fool, but I didn't care. And Braeden only laughed joyfully at my enthusiasm.

"It is good to see that young people still have an interest in reading," he said, following me at a distance in case I decided to turn on him suddenly.

"Well, not all. But I've always loved to read. I grew up reading all sorts of books. I believe I inherited that from my mother." I knew as soon as I said it that this would be the moment he'd reveal it to me. Angela had told me he knew my mother, and I needed to know how. Slowly, I turned to face him and saw a sad smile upon his face.

"Yes, I know." I stared at him for a long moment before I decided to chance it.

"You knew my mother, didn't you?" I asked. He seemed taken aback at my sudden inquiry, but the surprise quickly faded away.

"Angela told you, didn't she?" He laughed slightly and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. I nodded slightly when he looked back at me. "Come here, Tabatha, and sit down please." He gestured for me to take a seat in an armchair by the blazing fire. I sank into the plush chair and waited for his explanation. "Yes, I knew your mother. She and I were best friends," he said slowly.

"But how is that possible?" He smiled at me fondly before continuing.

"I was born and raised in Carvahall, just like you," he began slowly. "Your mother and I were about the same age and we lived next door to one another. So, naturally, we were good friends. The moment I saw your eyes, I knew who you were. Then, when you told me your name, my speculations were confirmed. You see, Tabatha was her mother's name. Adelaide's mother died when she was very young; she always vowed that if she ever had a daughter, she would name her Tabatha." I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes from all of this newfound information.

"And her... powers?" I prodded cautiously.

"She was a very gifted witch," he said fondly, smiling to himself a bit. "People came from far and wide to be healed by her. And she was good and kind." He paused here, and I was about to ask him what he knew of my father, before he let out a small gasp. "Goodness! Look at the time! It's nearly eleven-thirty. Really, Tabatha, I must insist you stay here tonight. I wouldn't dream of having a lady go home by herself at this time of night."

Every fiber of my being screamed at me to go back to the castle, where it was safe. But there was that tiny voice in my head telling me to stay and learn however much I could from this stranger. Slowly, I nodded. "Of course," I said weakly.

"Excellent." He bounded up out of his chair. "Come with me, and we'll get you all settled. I promise that we'll talk more in the morning." I nodded absent-mindedly as he took my hand and led me out of the grand library.

Lord Braeden took me down a winding corridor and opened a beautifully carved door. He led me inside where there were a couple of chambermaids laying out some nightclothes for me. "Don't hesitate to ask for anything," Braeden said, lingering by the door. "Just ring the bell and a maid will be in shortly. If no one comes, then go across the hall to Miles' room. He'll be happy to help." Somehow, I didn't think that me showing up in my nightgown at Miles' door in the middle of the night would make him very happy.

"Thank you, Lord Braeden, for your hospitality and generosity," I said. "I will never forget your kindness." He bade me a final goodnight and then left. Once the maids were gone, I slipped into the beautiful nightgown and then into the most comfortable bed I'd ever been in. For the longest time, I stared up at the blank ceiling, thinking about all the hectic events of the day. The final thought that coursed through my mind was whether or not Lord Braeden knew about my father and the fact that I was a princess.


	29. An Attractive Offer

I awoke to the sun hitting my face through the large window situated in the eastern-facing wall. For a moment, I couldn't remember where I was, but then the events of last night came flooding back and I remembered. It seemed Lord Braeden and I needed to have a little chat.

Slowly, I got up out of the immensely comfortable bed and stretched. The maids had laid out a simple, dark green gown for me. And although I didn't want to wear it, I couldn't very well wear Isabelle's mother's wedding gown around all day. Hesitantly, I put it on and looked at myself in the mirror after I'd brushed my tangled mess of hair. I supposed I didn't look _too_ bad.

I left the room and stood in the quiet corridor for a moment. It didn't sound like anyone in the house was awake yet, so I decided to go back to the magnificent library. Making my way back there, I took a few wrong turns here and there, but I eventually made it. I entered quietly, just in case Braeden was having an early morning read. But there wasn't anyone in the library, so I began to explore.

The shelves were packed full of books on every subject under the sun: philosophy, science, astrology, fiction, biographies, and even human anatomy. I flipped through a couple of them but eventually made my way over to the section containing my favorite type of books: history. As I rounded the corner of a bookshelf, my head smacked straight into something hard. After recovering quickly, I opened my eyes and saw that what I'd run into was a man's chest... _Miles_. I groaned inwardly to myself and looked up into his grey eyes, trying to look as innocent as possible. The expression on his face, though, I was not expecting. It was... could it possibly be... _surprise?_ As soon as I'd seen it, however, the look was gone and all sense of emotion washed completely off his ruggedly handsome face.

"Lady Tabatha," he said, bowing his head slightly. "I did not realize you'd spent the night here last evening. What a _lovely_ surprise." I got the feeling that this man didn't like me very much. But it wasn't as though I cared for him all that much either. I just wanted to know _why_ he didn't like me.

"Sir," I said, still a little unsure as to what to call him—Sir Miles just didn't sound right, "is there something that I have done to offend you in some way?" He seemed to ponder this for a moment.

"No, not exactly," he replied slowly.

"Then why do you treat me as such? Or is that just your... _charming_ personality?" I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest. He thought on this as well for a moment.

"It is very difficult to explain," he replied, looking at me in a way that made me think there was something bigger than me going on here. Again, I got the impression that he was searching for something in my eyes by the way that he looked at me so intently. We stood like that—staring into each other's eyes; studying one another—for quite a while. When I could bear the silence no longer, I spoke up.

"Do you enjoy history books, sir?" I asked. He nodded slowly.

"As a matter of fact, I do. And you don't have to keep calling me 'sir'. Miles will do just fine," he said, stepping back a couple of paces from me. I was glad to have my own personal space back, but I felt strangely empty when his gaze was gone from mine.

"Very well... Miles." It felt slightly strange to call a noble by his first name, especially when I barely knew him at all.

"What sorts of history do you like, Lady Tabatha?" he asked, clasping his hands behind his back in a very regal manner.

"All sorts. And you don't have to call me 'lady'," I replied shortly, giving him a taste of his own medicine. "I assure you, I am not one. Tabatha will do just fine." I could've sworn that I saw him smirking slightly, but the smile disappeared quickly. I couldn't help but think that this man showed about as much emotion as you'd expect from a cow!

"Of course... Tabatha," he said softly. There was something strange in the way he said my name, as though he was afraid of breaking it if he said it too loud; as though it were something precious and to be cherished. But there was also a hint of steel in his voice, like he was resentful of something. We continued walking through the shelves in silence as I stewed on my own thoughts. What on earth had I done to this man? Then, quite suddenly, an idea formed in my mind. _Could it be?_

"Your father has certainly done well for himself, coming from a town full of farmers," I remarked casually. I wanted to see how he would react.

"He has worked very hard for many years to provide us with the life we've grown accustomed to," Miles said. "I am very grateful to him."

"Lord Braeden seems a kind man... What of your mother? I have not met her yet."

Miles visibly stiffened at my side, and I thought that perhaps I'd made a mistake. "My mother is no longer with us," he said tersely. My heart was hammering in my chest as I weighed my words carefully. "She died when I was young."

"Miles—"

"I know what you are thinking," he cut me off quickly, his voice as hard as ice. "But you should banish that thought from your head right now. Adelaide is not my mother. As much as my father may have wished it, she never loved him the way she did _that man._ " My breath caught in my throat as I realized Miles knew exactly who my father was. _Could I possibly be in danger here?_ Miles suddenly turned on me, and I was shocked to see the coldness in his eyes—something I'd never seen from Murtagh. "Why have you come here?" he demanded. "What do you want from us?"

"Miles, I don't understand," I said helplessly, backing away with small steps from his growing anger. "I'm not here for anything. The Varden—we came here, and Angela told me to find your father! So he could help me!"

"You need to leave, Tabatha. The sight of you only tortures my father, and reminds me that my mother could never compare to a dead woman. Make whatever excuses you must, but you must go." I was so in shock at the words coming out of his mouth, that all I could do was stand there frozen with my mouth hanging wide open. Now it all made sense.

"How dare you?" I finally said once I found my voice. "I have done nothing to warrant such treatment from you. It may be that your father loved my mother, but I am not her. I came here to ask for your father's help, and I will not be scared away by you. If you cannot stand the sight of me, as you claim, then perhaps you should reevaluate why it is you hate me. Is it for anything I have done?"

"It is for what you are!" he suddenly yelled. "You are an unnatural demon, sent here to torment my father with ghosts from his past! I want you gone!" His voice had risen to such a level that I'm sure the entire house was awake by now.

"That is not up to you," I growled darkly. "If your father wishes me to stay, then I shall do so." He made to say something else, but was suddenly cut off by the opening of the door. Both of our heads snapped towards the entrance of the library, and I saw Braeden entering, a wide smile upon his face.

"Ah!" he exclaimed happily, clapping his hands. "There you two are. Having a nice early morning chat?" Miles took a step back from me and straightened up, clasping his hands behind his back once more.

"I was just showing Lady Tabatha some of our rarer volumes," he intoned dryly, looking as though he wished to be anywhere else besides here.

"Wonderful!" There was a light in Braeden's eyes as he looked back and forth between me and his son. Miles certainly was a talented liar, but I wasn't about to expose him. The look on his father's face led me to believe it would break his heart if he knew there was any animosity between us. And after what had happened with my mother, I felt a certain duty towards Braeden. Perhaps I felt like I needed to atone for what she had done. "Forgive me for interrupting, but I wanted to see if you'd like to continue our conversation from last night," he continued, coming over to me and putting an arm around my shoulder in a very fatherly gesture. "Would you join me in the garden?"

"Of course," I said, mustering the most convincing smile. I glanced over at Miles and saw he was glaring at me coldly, his body completely rigid. He watched as Braeden and I exited the library, and I felt the burning in the back of my head where I was certain he was still staring.

 

* * *

 

The garden stretched throughout the massive courtyard in the center of the house. I was surprised such a large house could be found within the confines of the city, but then again, Braeden was the king's right-hand man. I'm sure he could afford whatever he wanted. We walked slowly along the brick path, weaving in and out amongst the tall broadleaf trees and rose bushes. I saw a little, white butterfly flitting between strange yellow flowers I'd never seen before. Leaning down to inspect the flower, I noticed it gave off a very pleasant aroma.

"What are these?" I asked, stroking one of the soft petals.

"They are called 'jonquil'," Braeden explained, watching me fondly. "They were your mother's favorite." I looked up at him in surprise and then slowly stood.

"I've never seen them in the valley before," I mused quietly.

"They are not native to Palancar Valley," he said softly. We continued to walk the paths as he explained. "A woman from Aroughs brought her sick child to Carvahall one day. By this time, word of your mother's prowess as a healer had spread to every corner of Alagaesia. The child was plagued by a disease of the skin, and the mother was told he would die before his tenth year. It took Adelaide a week of long days and even longer nights, but she cured the child. The mother did not have much in the way of payment, but she brought the jonquils with her from the south. Your mother loved them so much, that she asked for a bloom to plant in her garden as payment. When I came to Surda, I found the woman in Aroughs—just over the border—and told her what had happened to Adelaide. The woman wept bitterly, and gave me a hundred blooms of the flower, to plant a memorial for the witch that had saved her son. And so, this garden is dedicated to your mother." I looked around at the beauty of the trees and flowers, and couldn't help feeling that my mother would have loved this place. Although I had never known her, I felt a part of her soul still lived within me.

"It is beautiful," I whispered, holding back the tears. "She would have loved it." We came to a small, wrought iron table with matching chairs. Braeden gestured for me to sit and then sat himself across from me.

"Now, where did I leave off?" He was speaking to himself more than me.

"You were telling me about my mother's work as a healer, and my grandmother."

"Yes, yes, that's right," he said distractedly. "Your grandmother was the town healer in Carvahall before your mother. She trained your mother, and another woman named Gertrude. Tabatha had an extraordinary gift for medicine, and everyone adored her; she was the sweetest woman I've ever met. I barely remember her, though; she died when Adelaide and I were about six years old." It gave me a little consolation to know that my mother had grown up without a mother too. Elain was a wonderful aunt, but I always felt that there was something missing from our relationship. "In certain ways, you remind me of her... But there is much of your mother in you. Your grandmother was a powerful witch in her own right, but Adelaide soon surpassed her abilities. Many people in the town were afraid of her, including your grandfather. But there were others that knew what she could do would benefit many lives. They sought out her help, and she willingly gave it. Once word got out about her powers, people from all over the Empire came with their sick children or other ailments. No matter the situation, Adelaide was always there with open arms, until..." And this was the part I really didn't want to hear. Braeden paused sadly.

"Go on," I prodded softly.

"And then _he_ came to town," Braeden spat, his voice full of venom.

"You know who and what my father is?"

"Yes, I do, Tabatha," he said softly, a heartbreaking sadness in his voice. "When he came to Carvahall on the morning of her nineteenth birthday, I didn't see anything wrong with him. But then again, I didn't see him much at all. He wore a cloak that covered his face. Not that it really mattered; we poor farmers had no idea what _our king_ looked like. But one day, I noticed him watching her. She was very beautiful, just as you are. But there was something else in his gaze that frightened me. I knew that he wanted more than her love; he wanted her abilities. He finally approached her at the tavern one night, and when he was gone I tried to warn her of the danger I saw coming. She dismissed my accusations and we fought. That was the last time I spoke to her..." He paused here, lost in thought, and it broke my heart to see the sadness locked in his eyes. "I saw them around a few more times after that, but I always kept my distance. It was too... painful."

"You loved my mother?" I already knew the answer to this, but I wanted to hear it confirmed from his own mouth.

"Yes, I did. I always have," he sighed. "But that didn't matter. She couldn't see past the charms of a mysterious stranger. And that's what I never understood. She was always so good at reading people, that I thought he must have placed some enchantment on her. She was tricked by a monster, and I will never forgive myself for letting that happen... One morning, I awoke to find a letter on my bedside table. It read:

_My dearest Braeden,_

_I am writing to tell you goodbye. Cain and I are leaving this place to begin a new life in Uru'baen. We will not return. I am sorry that it had to come to this, and it broke my heart that you could never understand. Cain and I love each other, and I hoped and prayed every day that you would be happy for us. But you never were. It hurt me more than I can say that you couldn't support me. I thought that we were best friends, but I see now that it cannot be so any longer._

_I doubt very much that we shall ever see each other again. But if we do, I hope that you will think better of Cain, and that we can put all of this behind us. He is a wonderful man, and I think you would like him if you really got to know him. For the past nineteen years, you have been the best friend anyone could ask for, Braeden. I love you as if you were my own brother. May fortune smile upon you in the years to come, and may we come to forgive each other one day._

_With a heavy heart,_

_Adelaide_

"They left that morning and I never saw her again…"

I glimpsed the tear in his eye as he recited the letter he'd so obviously memorized over the past sixteen years. "The letter tore me apart," he continued, choking the tears back. "It was infuriating that I couldn't make her see that this 'Cain' was tricking her. But there was nothing I could do. Three years later, I was working with your uncle in the forge. He'd offered me the job after she left, out of pity. One night, as we were closing down for the day, a stranger came knocking at the door. Horst and I had been working late on a troublesome scythe, so we met the stranger on the porch. He was carrying a child, and the man—Brom—explained who he was and what had happened to your mother. It took everything within me to keep my wits when he told me your mother was dead. Then he handed you over to Horst and asked that he and his wife take care of you. I knew I could never stay in Carvahall with such a stark reminder of Adelaide constantly waiting around the corner. So I left the next day, to Surda. The rest...is but history." An inescapable sadness hung in the air, so much that I thought it might crush me. "But it seems no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape your mother's ghost."

"I am sorry for whatever pain she may have caused you," I whispered, feeling as though it was something I should say.

"It's all in the past now." He smiled sadly. "But now that you are here, there is something I wish to ask you.

"What is it?"

"Your mother was very powerful, and she taught me much of what she knew. I am not able to wield the abilities that she possessed, but I can teach you how to hone your skills. I would like to know if you'd consider staying with me to learn." My mind was racing with thoughts, and I could feel a mounting pressure at the base of my skull.

"But, where would we do this?" I asked breathlessly. _Could this really be happening?_

"There isn't room enough to do it here. We would travel to my estate in the country," he explained, a smile slowly spreading across his handsome features. It was certainly tempting, but I was loath to leave Isabelle and Gregorio behind...

"I... I'm not sure." He could sense my hesitation.

"If you like, you could bring your friend that I saw you with yesterday to keep you company. In case Miles becomes too tiresome." He laughed heartily but I felt a tightening in my chest. _Miles was already becoming too tiresome._

"Very well," I said slowly, "I accept."

"Excellent!" Braeden exclaimed in delight. "I will make the necessary preparations. Meet us here, say, three o'clock?" I nodded quickly, trying to look as excited as possible. I knew that I needed to find out what was going on with my powers, but the prospect of being around Miles constantly was making me uneasy. Lord Braeden walked me back to the stables and then left to discuss business with his steward. My things were brought down from my room and a groom helped me up into the saddle of my magnificent black stallion.

We rode back to the Varden as quickly as possible. I'd have to tell Nasuada what had happened, but I didn't think she'd be opposed to me training in order to hone my skills. I just hoped Isabelle would be alright with coming along. I didn't think I could stomach the thought of facing Miles again alone.


	30. The First Social Event of a Princess

"Tabatha," Isabelle said slowly, "you can't be serious. Are there bats in the belfry! Because insanity is the only plausible explanation I can think of to account for this crazy idea of yours." I watched as she paced back and forth across our tiny room. "Just because this man claims he knew your mother over sixteen years ago does not mean you can just drop everything and trust him!" Although I'd had my reservations as well, they had nothing to do with Braeden.

"Isabelle, please trust me on this one? I am going with him to train, and I'm asking you to come with me. Whether you do or not is your choice." She suddenly knelt down in front of me and took my hands up into her own.

"Please, just think about what you're doing," she pleaded desperately.

"I already have," I replied sternly. "This man knows about my mother's powers, and that means he can teach me how to use my own. One day, I'm going to have to face my father, and the more I know when that day comes, the better." She gazed into my eyes for the longest time, and then solemnly bowed her head.

"All right," she whispered, "I'll come with you. But only because I think you're going to get into some kind of trouble and no one will be there to get you out of it when it comes."

I smiled and wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you, Isabelle," I said. "And besides, Lord Braeden's son is terribly dour, I don't think I'd be able to stand it if you weren't there. Come on, we'd better get packed. We haven't got much time."

 

* * *

 

We were waiting in Lord Braeden's stables at precisely three o'clock. Our trunks were piled on top of each other in the wagons that would carry the rest of the supplies to Braeden's estate. My stallion—whom I'd yet to name—shifted his weight beneath me and nickered softly to the brown mare that Isabelle had secured from Braeden's stables. The lord himself sat atop a beautiful white charger, sighing impatiently every few minutes or so. The only thing missing was Miles, who was strangely absent. We sat in silence, waiting for him to join us. Finally, at half past three, Miles came strutting out of the house towards the stables, a haughty look upon his face. Braeden looked ready to explode, but he managed to keep his temper in check.

"Ah, Miles," he said through clenched teeth, "there you are." Miles offered up no explanation for his tardiness; he simply climbed into the saddle of his buckskin destrier. I watched as Isabelle followed his movements, and a slow blush crept into her cheeks. How did I know this would happen? "Well then, are we all ready to go?" Braeden offered us all a false smile and spurred his mount forward.

Most of the ride was silent until we got out of the city. That's when Lord Braeden began explaining to Isabelle all the different creatures and various shrubbery that could be found in the grasslands, unaware that she herself was born in this land. Isabelle was only pretending to listen; I could see her casting furtive glances in Miles' direction every now and then. And then there was Miles, riding silently to my left and gazing moodily at the horizon.

"You don't seem terribly excited to be going to the estate," I remarked casually. Perhaps if I could show him I wasn't my mother, he wouldn't be so hostile towards me. He continued scanning the landscape, eyes narrowed.

"Country life does not suit me," he finally replied haughtily. "Nor does the company, to be quite honest." The words stung, but I was expecting them.

"I mean your father no ill will, Miles. I am actually quite grateful for the help he has offered," I said, trying not to sound too desperate. If I was going to be here for quite some time, I didn't want there to be any hatred between us. It would only make the duration of the stay that much more unbearable. "Whatever feelings he may have harbored for my mother—"

" _Still_ harbors," he snapped harshly, cutting me off mid-sentence. "He is _still_ in love with a dead woman."

"I would thank you not to speak so impertinently of my mother," I shot back, turning to look at him. He still refused to meet my gaze. "Whatever feelings he still harbors for my mother, I am not her. I am here to atone for the wrong my mother did him, nothing more."

"That's just what you don't understand, Tabatha." His voice had become dark. "Whatever atonement you may have in mind, I assure you it is not what he is thinking."

"What do you mean?" I asked. I happened to glance over and saw Isabelle gazing at us curiously.

"Are you truly that naive that you do not see it?" he demanded. "It would give him no greater pleasure if you and I married. That is the sort of _atonement_ he has in mind." I sucked in my breath and my eyes went wide. How could he think I'd ever want to marry this pig-headed son of his?

"I... Miles I don't—"

"Don't worry your pretty little head about that," he sneered. "I've no desire to marry you whatsoever." The words struck me deeply, and I couldn't help but be hurt by the hatefulness with which he spoke to me. "Let's just agree to steer clear of each other for this time, shall we? It will be better for both of us in the end." I didn't have a chance to respond before he spurred his stallion forward and joined his father and Isabelle.

 

* * *

 

When we were all settled in, Braeden mentioned to me that he'd organized a ball for all of the Surdan lords. They would make the trek out to his estate and he would like very much if I would attend. I didn't see the harm, since my identity was relatively unknown amongst the Surdans. And besides, I'd never been to a ball before, so I agreed.

On the morning of the ball, I realized just how unprepared I was. Braeden had provided some items of clothing for me, but I had no idea what I was doing. There were gowns of all different shades and colors and fabrics, but I had no idea which would be appropriate. Rifling through the wardrobe, I picked up a black dress with a full skirt. The fabric on top was a soft linen, and the skirt was made of a rich blue silk. It seemed to be a fine gown but still, I was lost.

"Isabelle!" I cried helplessly from my enormous room. "Help!" She came rushing out of her room across the hall and bursting into mine.

"What's the matter!" she cried, looking around wildly. I turned from the wardrobe, holding up the dress to my neck.

"Is this appropriate for the ball? I really haven't got a clue what I'm doing." She stared at me in dumbstruck wonder for a moment, her mouth hanging slightly open.

"Really? That's what you're screaming about?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes! I've never been to a ball before," I complained. She rolled her eyes and stamped her foot lightly, coming over to me where I stood before the wardrobe.

"Well, first of all, this is a riding dress," she said, tugging at the linen dress so that I released it. "So no, that would not be appropriate for the ball." She hung the dress back up on the rack and then pushed some more dresses aside. "Aha! Here we go!" She produced a gown from the back of the wardrobe unlike any I had ever seen.

The fabric was satin and silk; blues and purples and silvers. Around the waist and neckline was a silver brocade in the pattern of vines and leaves. There were matching detached sleeves in the same blues with the silver brocade, that trailed to the ground in a tumble of chiffon. I inhaled sharply as Isabelle held it up, beaming from ear to ear.

"You'll be irresistible in this," she said, laying the gown on the bed. She found a necklace within the wardrobe in the shape of roses and leaves; the metal was slightly tarnished, but that only made it that much more beautiful. Then she produced a pair of silver slippers with white and silver beading all over and a delicate white lace covering. I couldn't imagine any raiment more beautiful.

"I can't believe this is actually happening," I whispered.

"Come on, let's get you ready." Isabelle was smiling widely as she bounded over to close the door. She then pulled out a corset and I groaned loudly.

"Do I really have to wear that?"

"Yes!" she snapped, pulling on the hem of my tunic. Begrudgingly, I pulled off my tunic and stood in my thin undershirt while she wrapped the corset around my middle. I held it by the top while she circled around behind me. "Alright, are you ready?" I nodded weakly and closed my eyes, preparing for the worst. She tugged on the laces at the bottom, and that wasn't so bad. But the tugging became steadily worse the further up she went. The little piece of fabric got tighter, until I could hardly breathe, and the boning was digging into my sides. Finally, she looped the hook at the top and released me. "How does that feel?"

"Like I'm being suffocated," I moaned, tugging slightly at the top.

"Good, that's how it's supposed to feel."

"Do people really wear these all the time?" I had heard my aunt tell me about the noble ladies of the king's court, and how they dressed in fine fabrics all the time. But I couldn't imagine subjecting myself to this kind of torture daily.

"People in high society do," Isabelle replied. "We're supposed to play a part tonight, so we have to _look_ the part. Come on, let me help you put the dress on." She slipped a full underskirt over my head and tightened it about my already cinched waist. Then she placed the dress over my head and pulled it down where it fit perfectly against the lines of my body. She pushed up on my chest until it seemed I would spill over the neckline, and then pulled the detached sleeves up my arms. When that was done, she sat me down in front of the vanity.

"Thank you for all of your help, Isabelle," I said softly, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing her mother's wedding dress, and I couldn't help but think she looked much more beautiful in it than I did. "You look wonderful yourself." She thanked me quietly and then got to work on my voluminous locks of hair, twisting and pulling until they were arranged into an elaborate chignon of pin curls at the base of my neck. She must have had some experience being a lady's maid, or else she was just extremely talented when it came to hair. She lined my upper and lower lids with dark kohl, making the violet color of my eyes stand out even more than they already did. I sprayed a bit of a sweet-smelling perfume onto the bare skin of my chest and then stood.

"You're ready," she said, smiling sweetly. "No one will be able to take their eyes off you." I laughed nervously, but I wasn't sure how to respond. After running for so long, I was uncomfortable being the center of attention. "But I think the party's starting without us. Let's get going."

We linked arms and then exited into the hall. I could hear the dull murmur of idle chatter and the clicking of women's heels on the marble floor of the entrance hall as they made their way into the dining room. We would eat first, and then the real torture would come... _dancing._ I had no idea how people in high society danced, and I was dreading making a fool of myself. Isabelle must have been able to sense my discomfort.

"Don't worry, Tabby. Just watch me, and I'll show you how to do it," she whispered reassuringly. By now, we were standing at the top of the grand staircase that descended into the entrance hall. There were a few people filing in still, and even more milling about in the gallery where we were. Apparently, as Isabelle had informed me, it was improper for young ladies to enter a party without a male escort, so we had to wait to be rescued. Isabelle was gorgeous, so of course a young man with sweeping blonde hair snatched her up.

"May I escort you, my lady?" he asked, giving her a toothy grin. I could see Isabelle was blushing furiously, but she nodded her assent. They moved towards the staircase and the young man leaned over to the steward that was announcing names.

The steward tapped his silver scepter against the marble floor three times. "The Duke Jacen and Lady Isabelle!" he said in a booming voice, the words reverberating against the tall ceilings. Several people down below in the hall stopped their conversations and looked up at the handsome newcomers as they descended the stairs. Isabelle seemed to fit right in with this crowd. But me... I felt like a mule in a thoroughbred race. This was absolutely humiliating.

"Might I escort you, my lady?" I heard a voice say from behind me. Slowly, I turned and a sense of dread filled my heart. Standing behind me—and looking as handsome as ever—was Miles. He didn't look as stern as he usually did, and there was a hint of a smile on his face. What in the world is going on with him? He was holding out his hand, waiting for me to take it. He seemed to look more like Murtagh to me every day.

Whatever his ulterior motives may have been, I didn't want to stand here idly in the hall any longer. "Of course you may, Lord Miles," I replied tensely, unsure if his intentions were genuine. I placed my hand into his and he planted a soft kiss on top of it, sending butterflies swarming through my stomach. I curtsied slightly and then allowed him to lead me towards the grand staircase. He then leaned over to the steward. Again, the man tapped his scepter against the marble floor. I stared straight ahead at the stairs and the people mingling in the entrance hall. _Here we go..._

"The Lord Miles and Lady Tabatha!" he said in that same booming voice. If we had been in my father's castle, I would have been announced as "Princess Tabatha", and the thought made me queasy. It was then that I realized how quiet the hall had become. Every person in the room was staring up at Miles and me as we descended the staircase, gaping and gawking.

"What are they looking at?" I whispered to Miles out of the corner of my mouth.

"How beautiful you are," he replied quietly. That caused the blood to rush into my cheeks. When we finally reached the bottom of the stairs, I found it hard to avoid the eyes all staring at me. Our hands were still clasped as Miles led me into the dining room and to my seat. He pulled out my chair and then pushed it in as I sat. Isabelle was across from me with the young duke, and she was staring at me pointedly. Apparently it wasn't going too well over there.

In accordance with tradition—as Isabelle explained to me later—I had two men on either side of me, both of whom were very handsome, and one of whom I couldn't stand to look at for fear of breaking down in tears. So, in an attempt to retain my composure, I focused all my attention on the man to my right.

"Good evening," he said amiably, smiling warmly and making his blue eyes crinkle at their edges. His hair was a reddish brown and a thin layer of hair covered his chin. "I am Lord Evander, though soon to be Count."

"Hello, _Count_ Evander," I replied teasingly, giving my most radiant smile, "it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Tabatha." He laughed back at me.

"Just Tabatha? No lengthy titles?" he shot back playfully. Silently, I cursed my stupidity at already forgetting the story we had concocted the night before. I scrambled for an excuse as quickly as possible.

"Well... yes, there is a title," I said slowly, trying to recover. "My father is a Lord... but I prefer to dispense with all of that. Titles don't really hold any consequence with me. I look more at a person's character, rather than their pedigree." I commended myself on my quick thinking and then turned to the assortment of greens on the plate in front of me. There was a bit of a light in his eyes, but I wasn't sure what had caused it.

"Well then," he said, giving me a half-smile that complemented his handsome features, "if that's to be the case, then tonight I am simply Evander." I nodded and smiled slightly, taking a bite of the salad. "So, what enterprise is your father in?" I wracked my brain to try and remember the elaborate lie.

"Uh... lumber," I finally said, remembering Isabelle's suggestion.

"Really? In Surda? That can't be very profitable," he remarked, turning to his own food.

"Oh no, I am from Alagaesia," I replied. That was what we had all agreed upon to keep suspicion away. People would be less likely to ask questions if I was the daughter of an Alagaesian lord none of them had ever heard of.

"Really?" he said happily, a bright smile lighting up his face. "So am I! I've been visiting my uncle in Aberon, but it is nice to see a friendly face from home." My heart dropped into my stomach as I laughed nervously. I looked over at Isabelle who had clearly been listening to our conversation. But she only stared back with a helpless expression upon her face. "I've never seen you in Galbatorix's court, though. Who is your father? Perhaps I would know him?"

"Well, uh... Father's business is mainly in the southern portion of the Spine. We live in Kuasta," I explained, pulling these lies straight out of unmentionable places. "Uru'baen is such a long trek from our home that Father rarely ever gets to court. I don't think he's been in over ten years. His name is Lord Alaric Baellsson." Quickly, I shoved a forkful of greens into my mouth to avoid any further explanation. Evander pondered this for a moment with a look of consternation upon his face.

"Yes, you're right. I've not heard of him before," he finally said. I was eternally grateful to the gods that my lie had been convincing enough... for now. "When will you be returning to Alagaesia?"

"Not for many months," I said. "I am here visiting family friends—Lord Braeden and his son. I've brought my cousin along as well. We are having such a wonderful time, are we not Isabelle?" This last question was directed across the table.

"Of course, cousin," she replied merrily, taking a sip of wine. "I was just telling Duke Jacen how much I've enjoyed the countryside. I fear I may like to stay here forever!" Isabelle played her part perfectly, and I could tell everyone within earshot believed we were who we said we were.

"Yes, I find that I can get lost in the sweeping countryside of Surda myself sometimes," Evander continued. "It is breathtaking." The main course was finally laid before us and I gazed hungrily at the baked chicken. But then I recalled the delicate lady I was supposed to be. With a great deal of effort, I took only tiny bites out of the tender and succulent meat.

"Well, perhaps when we are both back in Alagaesia I may call on you?" Evander offered hesitantly. I could tell he was nervous. Was this the upper class version of courting?

"I... I would love that," I stuttered, unsure of how to respond. It would be difficult for him to call on me at an estate that didn't exist, but it didn't really matter. After tonight, I'd never see him again and I wouldn't have to worry about it.

"Excellent," he replied, clearly relieved. We spent the rest of the meal conversing with those around us about politics, the weather, books, and all sorts of other things. It was fascinating to me how dull these high society people could be. Miles, of course, was silent as the grave throughout the meal.

Once dinner was over, everyone stood and made their way into the ballroom. This time, Evander escorted me, which I was grateful for. Miles really was a downer.

"May I have to honor of the first dance?" Evander asked, turning to me and bowing. I felt my eyes widen in fear as the orchestra began to play the opening waltz. _I don't know how to dance!_ My nerves were getting the better of me, but I had to calm down.

"Indeed, sir. It would be my honor," I replied, taking his outstretched hand. I looked over for an instant and saw Miles watching me as Evander led me onto the dance floor. There was something heated in his expression, but I only ignored him.

Evander wrapped his arm around my waist and took my hand with the other. I couldn't help but feel that we were closer to each other than was acceptable to society, but right now I didn't really care. I'd never danced with a man before, and I was sort of enjoying it. We swept around the dance floor to the fast paced waltz, the strings soaring lightly over the ballroom. I found that dancing wasn't so difficult when you had a strong partner to lead you, and Evander certainly was a strong partner. Or perhaps that was the inner princess in me. I chose to ignore my discomfort with embracing who I really was and instead focused on the man—and his many charms—that I was dancing with. I danced with Evander for two more dances before I told him I was tired and needed to sit down. He only laughed and said that I lasted much longer than most young ladies did on the dance floor.

"Really though, Tabatha, you must come to Uru'baen sometime for one of the king's masquerades. They are magnificent, and you'd fit in quite well, I daresay." I couldn't help but think how suicidal that would be, but I didn't let it show on my face.

"Perhaps I will, one day," I replied quietly. After being sufficiently rested, I was ready to dance again, but another young noble whose name I didn't catch beat Count Evander to it. I gave him an apologetic glance as the young man swept me onto the dance floor, and then I barely saw him the rest of the evening. It seemed as though every person in the ballroom wanted to dance with me, and the night quickly became a blur of partners and waltzes and tarantellas and reels.

I had just left one partner, claiming I was tired again—though I really just wanted to get away from his horrendous smell—when another came tapping on my shoulder. I sighed exasperatedly and most unladylike.

"Forgive me," I said angrily, turning to face the next suitor in line, "but I am much too... Oh, it's you." Miles was staring me down amusedly. This man was truly strange. One moment, he says he doesn't want me here at all, and the next he's almost teasing me.

"Who were you expecting?" he asked, smirking.

"Just about every other man in this room," I replied, looking around at all of the laughing faces and merrymakers.

"Not that Count Evander fellow, I hope," he said. I couldn't help but blush, as apparently it was obvious that we had hit it off pretty well.

"And why not?" I asked defensively.

He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "You should stay away from him. He's too dangerous if he's from Alagaesia. If you want to be safe here from your father, then I suggest you get rid of him." He pulled away then and there was that wry grin upon his face. "Now, I came over here to ask you to dance. Whether or not you agree is up to you."

"Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?"

He set his mouth into a thin line, just the way Murtagh used to. "I spoke with my father," he began. "He assured me his intentions are only to help you with your... abilities. And as the host's eligible son, I am expected to dance with all the young ladies at the party." I couldn't really argue with that, so I took his hand and allowed him to lead me onto the dance floor. The orchestra began a slow, lilting melody.

As soon as we began dancing, and Miles was holding me in his arms, everything else in the room faded away. I felt as though everything was the way it was supposed to be. Murtagh and I were back together in the hall outside of my room in Farthen Dur—when we'd told each other how much we loved one another without using any words. I was immeasurably happy, and I wasn't worried about what was expected of me by those who wished to be free from my father. I was lost in Murtagh's embrace, resting my head on his shoulder, and shedding a single tear. "Murtagh..." I whispered.

"Tabatha?" The voice snapped me back to reality. It wasn't Murtagh's shoulder my head was resting on, it was Miles' shoulder. I was in the ballroom at Lord Braeden's estate in Surda, not in Farthen Dur, and the weight of my responsibilities was heavy on my shoulders. "Tabatha," Miles whispered again, "is everything alright?" I pulled my head away once I realized that the music was ending and everyone was clapping. I wiped away that single tear and looked into his wolfish grey eyes.

"Everything is fine," I lied, not even bothering to put on a fake smile for him. I walked away from Miles then, leaving him standing bewildered in the middle of the dance floor, and noticed Evander waiting on the edge of the crowd, watching me and smiling. I returned his smile and stopped at his side.

"I had a lovely time this evening," I told him, "though I regret that we did not get to spend as much time together as I would have liked. I'm truly sorry, but I fear I must be getting to bed; the hour is very late."

"Of course," he replied. "It was wonderful to have met you, Lady Tabatha. I can only hope that fate will allow us another meeting in the future." I smiled and bade him goodnight one last time before heading out of the ballroom and up to bed, my salty tears leading the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys are interested, this is the song I envisioned Tabby and Evander dancing to: www. youtube.com/watch?v=oF4gqCLy22c
> 
> And this is the one I thought of Tabby and Miles dancing to: www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ouMlUZt9DI


	31. The Art of Training

My head was pounding and my muscles were aching when I awoke the next morning. Who knew that dancing the night away could have that kind of effect? I was feeling emotionally drained as well, after crying myself to sleep the night before. It seemed that no matter how hard I tried, I wasn't over the loss of Murtagh. His memory still haunted me like a ghost.

After I was dressed in my normal attire of a dark blue tunic and leather breeches, I trudged out of my room and headed down to the kitchens. The house was eerily silent after the cacophony of the night before, and the sun was just barely rising in the east. The servants in the kitchen were bustling about preparing an after-ball breakfast. I bade them a good morning and then swiped a wedge of yellow cheese and half a loaf of bread. With my impromptu breakfast in tow, I headed out the side door to the garden. The garden here was bigger than the one at his house in the city, but just as grand and beautiful. I planted myself beneath the shade of a broadleaf tree and munched on the cheese lazily, enjoying the rising heat of the day.

The sun had risen sufficiently in the sky by the time Braeden found me beneath the large maple. "Good morning, Tabatha," he called, a kind smile donned on his face.

"And to you, Lord Braeden," I replied.

"Did you enjoy yourself last night?" He lowered himself to the ground next to me and leaned up against the trunk of the tree. "Count Evander seemed to be quite taken with you."

I snorted slightly at that. "Yes, I enjoyed myself immensely. The count was attentive and kind, but I don't foresee anything coming out of that," I said, a hint of indifference in my voice.

"Oh, why is that?"

"He is from Alagaesia," I said, picking at a blade of green grass. "Let us hope he doesn't have loose lips, or else word of me will spread quickly through the court."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Braeden said cryptically. I had heard of high lords employing spies to trail the other noble houses, but I'd never imagined it could be a common practice. I decided it would be best not to say anything. "I must say, you looked very much like your mother last night. You did splendidly; the entire room was fooled. It's lucky Galbatorix's wanted posters don't breach our borders, and that your Count had no idea who you were."

"Yes, very lucky indeed..." I replied absentmindedly. Perhaps he had recognized me, but was just waiting to report back to the king...

"Tabatha," Braeden said slowly. Something in his tone had darkened and I looked over at him. "Have you ever considered telling people who you are?"

"What? That would be very near suicide!" _What could he possibly be thinking?_

"I only mean that if you revealed yourself, it may give others within the Empire courage to stand up to him. The greatest fear right now is that, if Galbatorix was overthrown, there would be no one to pick up the pieces. Or perhaps it would be someone even worse than him." I listened carefully as he explained, but I wasn't exactly sure what he was getting at yet. "You have already allied yourself with the Varden, and you have a legitimate claim to the throne. Those nobles who are not loyal to the king could help you to gain power and support—not only for the Varden, but for yourself as well." I pondered this for a moment.

"Galbatorix's reach is far," I finally replied. "He would do anything to dispose of the people that tried to help me."

"It's something to think about." He smiled at me warmly and then bounced to his feet, reaching down a hand to help me up as well. "Are you ready to start training today?" he asked.

"I think so." There was a knot of nerves building in my stomach, and I hoped I could keep my bread and cheese down. Braeden led me to a large field just outside of the paddock. The tall grass swayed in a warm breeze and swept across my legs.

"There is much that I have to teach you," he began, stopping in the middle of the field. "But we'll begin with the basics. Have you ever spoken to animals with your mind before?" I bit my lower lip as I thought of Saphira, and then of the stallion—whom I'd finally decided to call Praetorian.

"I don't know if word has reached you here in Surda, but there is another Dragon Rider in Alagaesia," I began slowly. "He is...well, was my best friend. And I spoke to his dragon regularly. And then I subdued the stallion by sending him calming thoughts."

"I had heard of the Rider, but I didn't know you were associated with him. Was he from Carvahall as well?"

"Yes, his name is Eragon." Braeden's eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing more.

"Excellent, then the work is already halfway done." He clapped his hands together and then came closer to me, placing his hands on my shoulders and staring into my eyes. "The next thing I will teach you is slightly more advanced. Your mother was very talented in this particular subject, so I don't foresee you having much trouble with it."

"What is it?" I asked.

"You will learn to speak with the dead." I felt my eyes widen.

"How is that possible?"

"Have you ever wondered where our souls go when they die?" Braeden asked me. I shook my head because I hadn't ever really thought about it. "The gods take those souls that are good to a land of eternal peace and freedom. That world exists within our own, and certain magic users are able to cross the lines to the spirit world to converse with those that have passed." My breath caught in my throat as I immediately thought of Murtagh.

"Teach me," I stated simply.

 

* * *

 

The training was rigorous. It required me to access parts of my mind I'd never even thought of before. I discovered that there was a massive pool of power within me, and when I accessed it, there were hardly any limits to what I could do. It was draining at first, but I quickly built up my stamina. When I accessed the spirit world, everything around me took on a brightly colored hue. The spirits of those that were departed noticed me sometimes, and I conversed with them on occasion, but mostly I just watched and observed.

Braeden was impressed with my quick progress. But no matter how hard I concentrated, I could never find Murtagh or my mother. I wondered if it had anything to do with where the person had died, but Braeden wasn't sure about that. Day after day, I threw myself into learning, and I only improved.

Once Braeden was satisfied with my abilities in that respect, we moved on to more attack-oriented abilities. I'd been at the estate for more than a month when he finally taught me how to harness my power into a weapon. I would access my power, deep within the recesses of my mind, and then focus it into a certain point on my body—usually my hand or arm. A white light that was rimmed in purple would form a disc in my hand, and I was able to propel it forward. Braeden set up flour sack dummies as targets, and the energy would explode against them—very often setting them on fire. It felt wonderful as the power surged through my body, vibrating every fiber of my being.

Lord Braeden even taught me the art of healing with herbs and potions. He said I had a knack for it, which obviously came from my mother. And when I was mixing the poultices and vials, I felt incredibly close to the woman that I'd never known. And I loved that I was learning to help others, the way that she had done. When he'd taught me all he could about magic, it was time for Braeden to teach me to ride. And in the sixth month of my stay there, I led Praetorian out to the paddock where Braeden was waiting atop his white stallion.

"The most important thing," he explained, "it to have a good connection with your horse. You must feel what he feels, so that he can do the same for you. Open your mind to Praetorian, allow him to feel your thoughts and you do the same for him. Think of the way that Eragon and Saphira are connected; try to emulate that. We'll start slowly, and then work our way up." I nodded slowly, but I knew it didn't come across as convincing. The truth was that I was afraid. I'd ridden Cadoc all the way across the country before, but warfare from horseback was a completely different story.

I spurred Praetorian forward into a trot, Braeden trotting right alongside me. The hurdle was getting closer and I felt my heart hammering in my chest. "Tell him what to do, Tabatha. He'll listen and respond." I gulped down the lump in my throat and concentrated on opening my mind to the horse. He jerked his head slightly at the sudden contact but I sent him calming thoughts. And then I sent him an image of catapulting over the hurdle. Praetorian picked up his pace to a canter, and I tightened my grip on the reins. _Here we go..._

We vaulted over the hurdle, soaring through the air gracefully. I was so lost in the excitement of the moment that I momentarily loosened the grip of my legs against the saddle. I slipped on the hard leather and let go of the reins, landing hard on my backside. A shooting pain ran up my spine and I cried out. Braeden reined in his horse next to me and asked if I was alright.

"I'm fine," I lied, standing and rubbing my backside where I'd landed.

"The jump wasn't bad," he continued, "but you lost the grip of your legs mid-air. You must remember to use both your hands and your legs, or else there will be a lot of falling in your future."

"Yes, you must remember to use your thighs," I heard a voice come from behind. Slowly, I turned and saw Miles looking at me with an amused look on his face.

"And what would you know about that?" I snapped back harshly. His face turned scarlet, but then he burst out in a fit of laughter like I'd never seen from him before. It only infuriated me more that he was laughing at my attempt to insult him.

"All right, all right," Braeden cut in. "Let's try it again."

We worked on jumping for the next week, and I eventually got the hang of it. I only fell off a few more times. Miles even joined us on his buckskin charger to practice his own jumping skills. It pained me to admit that he was much better at it than I was.

After jumping, we moved onto the bow and arrow. I drew out Murtagh's yew bow from my things and prepared to shoot at the targets from horseback. Braeden taught me how to draw and reload my arrows quickly, but it was difficult to hit the targets when Praetorian was moving. I found that if I accessed my magic though, I could aim the arrows and direct them where I wanted them to go. When I wrapped the energy field around the arrows, the targets would catch fire and explode. That would be extremely helpful in the days to come. The sword work was easy enough, but Braeden wanted me to spar with Miles. On that point, I absolutely refused. It brought up too many painful memories of Murtagh, but I couldn't explain that to him. How could I tell him I detested his son because he reminded me of the man I'd loved and lost?

One day, Braeden and I were sparring in the practice yard with blocked blades when an unexpected visitor arrived at the estate. He came riding through the gates like he was being followed by an Urgal horde. The sight of him told me something must have been terribly wrong back in Aberon.

"Gregorio!" I shouted, running over to him as he jumped off his horse. He was panting for breath and doubled over. When he stood up straight, I saw that his face held a look of fright. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"Tabatha, I must speak with you. Let's go inside," he said, putting an arm around my shoulder and heading towards the house. All four of us hurried inside and I instructed a servant to fetch Isabelle. She joined us in the study quickly and Braeden took a seat behind his desk. Miles stood in a shadowy corner with his arms crossed over his chest and Isabelle sat worriedly at my side.

"Gregorio, why have you come here?" I asked him once we were all settled. He hesitated for a moment.

"Galbatorix is on the move," he blurted out quickly, and I had to remind myself to breathe.

"Is he coming here?" I breathed, dreading the answer. Slowly, Gregorio nodded.

"He's making his way here with his armies," he said. "The Varden are assembling their soldiers and we're going to meet him head on."

"And Eragon?" I was sitting on the very edge of my seat, my heart hammering in my chest.

"He's been called upon from Ellesmera," he replied. "Tabby, we need you back at the Varden. There's a fight coming, and we need everyone we can get."

"No," Miles snapped from his dark corner. I whipped my head around to stare at him incredulously. _Who does he think he is answering for me?_ "If you know what her situation is, then you know that it is far too dangerous." _Since when did he care?_

"I am aware," Gregorio replied darkly, narrowing his eyes, "as is Lady Nasuada and she feels it will be perfectly safe. Galbatorix will not show himself in this battle; he's too smart for that. If he did, he'd have to face Eragon; he and Saphira would surely be killed, and Galbatorix will not chance killing the last female dragon in existence. He will sit back and watch."

"You seem to have a lot of knowledge about this," Miles said accusingly. The two men were locked in a battle of wills, and I feared it would soon come to a head.

"These are the words of Lady Nasuada, not I."

"All right!" I snapped, standing out of my chair and coming between them. "Miles, it isn't up to you whether I go or not. It is my choice, and I'm going. Isabelle—" I turned back to where she sat in her chair, "you should stay here." She nodded quickly and remained quiet. I knew that she understood she would be no help on this trip. Isabelle was not a trained warrior, and it would be safer for her if she stayed. Braeden was staring at me, an unmistakable light in his eyes. He stood from behind his desk and came around to stand in front of me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"Tabatha," he said lovingly, "I have taught you all that I can. The rest is up to you now."

"Thank you, Lord Braeden," I said, genuine thanks in my heart. "I will never forget you." He wrapped me in a tight embrace and then I hurried upstairs to pack my things. I wouldn't be needing any of the beautiful dresses Braeden had given me, so my pack was small and light. I strapped my quiver and Murtagh's bow about my waist and sheathed my hand-and-a-half sword. Braeden was waiting by Pretorian in the stables, along with Miles, Isabelle, and Gregorio.

I told him goodbye one last time with a hug, wrapped Isabelle in an embrace and then mounted Praetorian. Miles just stared at me somberly and inclined his head. We spurred our horses forward and Miles watched as we left. The way he stared reminded me so much of Murtagh when we'd first met. I couldn't help but think I would be glad to never see Miles again.


	32. The Crossing of Bridges

There was a buzzing excitement building up inside me that came with the knowledge that I would soon be able to use my abilities in battle. Training with dummies was one thing; actually implementing my skills in combat was another thing entirely. What I wasn't excited about, however, was being so close to my father. I was eager to show him and his armies just what I could do, but I wasn't entirely sure I was up to the task. I felt that there was so much more I needed to learn.

I was sitting in the courtyard of the palace in the late afternoon when Gregorio suddenly came bounding down a set of stairs towards me. His hands were trembling with excitement, and there was a light in his dark eyes. "I spoke with some of my comrades," he said, skidding to a halt at my side, "and I have it on good authority that we're leaving tomorrow for the Burning Plains." That was the place we'd decided on to meet Galbatorix's armies head on. Gregorio plopped down beside me on the stone bench I'd been occupying.

"Good," I replied. "The sooner we get this over with, the better it will be for everyone." I glanced over at his face and noticed an odd look upon it, as though his thoughts were far away. "Are you alright, Gregorio? You seem tense."

He blinked rapidly and then looked up at me, smiling a bit. "Yes, Tabby, I'm fine." He didn't convince me but I decided to let it drop. There were more important things weighing heavily on my mind.

As we sat there in silence, a page suddenly appeared before me, clearing his throat to gain my attention. I looked up at the man but he averted his eyes from my face. It seemed I was not completely welcome here by everyone. "Lady Nasuada requests your presence," he said tersely. I glanced over at Gregorio but he just shrugged. Slowly, I stood as the page turned and made his way briskly towards the stairs that led up to the gallery. I followed him as he picked up the pace and led me down several corridors to a study. Inside, I saw Nasuada standing over a desk, and then a handsome young man sitting in a high-backed chair behind it. _This must be King Orrin._

"Ah, Tabatha, there you are," Nasuada stated upon seeing me. She was smiling slightly, but I saw the bags beneath her eyes; she was slumped where she stood, indicating that she wasn't getting enough sleep. I inclined my head towards her and then the man behind the desk cleared his throat. I turned my gaze towards him and saw blue eyes inspecting my face over a thin nose and strong jaw. He was not unpleasant to look at—that much was evident—but there was an air of contempt about him, as though there were other things that required his attention.

"So this is the young woman you told me about?" he said, his voice a high tenor. "I must say, Nasuada, she's prettier than you described."

"Orrin, I don't think that's entirely appropriate, given the situation." Nasuada sounded like she was scolding a child. Orrin laughed merrily and looked between the two of us as I stood there dumbfounded. He stood from behind the desk and strolled carelessly over to me, taking my hand and planting a firm kiss on top of it.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady," he said, employing that honorific that I so hated. "Or is it Your Highness? I am unclear on your title."

"Neither," I growled, drawing my hand away with as much force as propriety would allow. King Orrin smirked at me lightly and turned back to Nasuada.

"She's a feisty one. I like her." My heart began beating faster as the heat rushed to my face. He certainly was impetuous.

"Orrin, please..." Nasuada sighed exasperatedly. He only laughed at her irritation and then returned to the desk, where I noticed a map was laid out. It showed the country of Surda and the edges of Alagaesia that it bordered. Many small towns I'd never heard of were shown on the vast plains. I crossed the room to stand by Nasuada and peered down at the map.

"It is good to see you again, my lady," I said quietly. She glanced over at me with a smile.

"How was your training? I hope you were able to learn some valuable skills," she replied. Orrin leaned further forward in his chair and inspected my face. I don't know why I hesitated, but part of me wanted to keep my powers concealed for now, until the battle began.

"Yes, my lady, I did."

"I myself am anxious to see what you can do," Orrin cut in. "Nasuada has told me of an... _episode_ that you suffered while still in Farthen Dur. It sounds most intriguing." I tried to contain my anger at his indifference. He had no idea what had happened to cause my breakdown. I almost thought he was looking at me more of a novelty; an enigma; a scientific equation that needed to be solved.

"I had just lost someone very dear to me," I said quietly, fighting against the tightness in my chest that made it difficult to breathe. "My emotions got the better of me; that is the only way I can account for what happened. If your intentions are for me to repeat the same display of power, I am sorry, but you will be sorely disappointed. I cannot replicate it."

"Hmm," he mused quietly. "Most intriguing indeed..." It was as though he hadn't heard a single thing I'd said. Nasuada sighed quietly at my side and then placed a hand upon my shoulder. I turned to her and saw her dark eyes full of sympathy, which irked me slightly.

"We are not expecting you to repeat that incident," she explained. "But I would like to see a bit of what you can do. We are still debating on whether to allow you onto the battlefield, but if your powers prove necessary to our success, we may be more inclined to let you fight." I knew she wasn’t the one that thought it might be too dangerous, but I would prove to them that I needed to fight.

"Very well," I replied quietly. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I reached into the back of my mind to where my power was stored. My whole body began to buzz with energy and excitement. I could feel the power materializing in my palm, and then I heard a gasp from King Orrin. When I opened my eyes, I saw the disc of white and purple light hovering just barely above my skin. As I moved my hand, the disc made a whooshing sound when it sliced through the air. Nasuada stared at it transfixed.

I propelled the disc away from my hand, using my mind to guide it and tell the formation of energy what to do. Nasuada and Orrin stared as it floated across the desk. I noticed a small vase at the corner of Orrin's desk and directed the disc towards it. Telling it what to do, the disc rippled and reformed into a smaller ball, about the size of a child's marble. The ball sank slowly into the vase and then began to glow brighter. The ceramic pottery shuddered from the energy and then suddenly burst apart as I opened my hand and spread my fingers. Little pieces of the vase scattered over the desk, skidding to a halt just before falling off the edge.

"That was incredible, Tabatha," Nasuada breathed. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"I am not like just anyone. Does that give you proof enough that I will be necessary in this fight?"

"Indeed, that much is evident," Orrin announced, standing from his chair. "You have quite proved me wrong, Lady Tabatha. I was of the camp that it was an absurd idea to send you into this battle. We'd be inviting Galbatorix to take you back to Uru'baen on a silver platter. But now I see that your abilities will be indispensable to us. You may just turn the tide of this battle."

"I don't know about that. But I'll certainly do what I can," I replied. Orrin was staring at me in a strange way, and I found it to be very uncomfortable. Nasuada smiled at me gratefully.

"Thank you, Tabatha. You're free to go. We leave first thing in the morning," she said, confirming what Gregorio had told me. I nodded firmly and then turned to go out the door I'd entered through.

King Orrin began to speak before I was completely gone, however, and I caught a bit of what he said. "She certainly is a talented sorceress, as you said," he whispered quietly. "But whether or not she will make a good queen remains to be seen."

"Only time will tell," Nasuada replied as the latch clicked and my heart stopped beating for a moment.

_Queen?_

They wanted me to be queen? But why? After all the harm my father has done to Alagaesia, why would they want me to rule after him? None of this was making any sense, and my head was reeling with confusion as I returned to my room to escape the heat of the day.

 

* * *

 

' _This place is unquestionably named appropriately,'_ I thought to myself as the Burning Plains came into my view. The whole place was a giant sulfur field. Wisps of smoke snaked into the sky from the ground, and a horrid stench permeated the air. We had stopped in Cithri the day before, but hadn't stayed long. This was our final destination, and soon our fates would be decided upon this burning ground. Through the haze of the smoke cloud, I could just glimpse the black and sludge-like water of the Jiet River. With the river at our backs, it would be easier to rout Galbatorix's soldiers—as long as he didn't send his men down the river.

"What's that horrid smell?" Gregorio spluttered at my side. I'd tied a strip of red cloth over my face to try and filter out the fumes, but it only did so much.

"These lands are full of peat," I explained, recalling the story I'd read in one of Brom's many books so many years ago. "Galbatorix's Thirteen Forsworn and the Riders of old met here in a ferocious battle. As the dragons spewed their flames, they unwittingly lit the peat on fire. There was so much of the mineral in the ground that the flames are still burning, creating a constant cloud of smoke a fumes. There are enough deposits there to keep it burning for hundreds of more years."

"How do you know all of this?" he asked in surprise.

"Books." The answer was simple enough, but it still caught him off guard. In a world where women were not often educated, it wasn't strange to me that he wouldn't think I could read.

Praetorian jerked his head restlessly, and I patted him on the neck to try and calm him. I knew he was suffering from the fumes as much as I, but soon we'd be in a tent where hopefully things wouldn't be so bad. Orrin's cavalry were already picketing their horses close to the river and setting up their tents. We stopped as well and started to unpack our things. Hundreds of men were raising the white-clothed tents over the scorched earth. I looked at my feet and saw black, orange, and sickly green-colored lichen sprouting out of the ground. It was certainly a foreboding place.

We waited around to be told where to go, and Gregorio was carted off with his unit. He threw me an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he marched away, and I just waved slowly. Now I was alone, with just Praetorian at my side. Suddenly, I missed Eragon terribly. Although it was still difficult for us to maintain our friendship, I still yearned for someone to talk to. Without Isabelle, I felt very morose. I looked up and saw another of Nasuada's guards coming straight for me, a determined expression on his face.

"Lady Tabatha?" he questioned.

"Yes." _Was I being summoned again? For what purpose?_

"Come with me, please." He turned quickly on his heel and strode further into the camp, his dark cloak flapping in the hot wind coming out of the vents in the ground. I followed quickly, leading Praetorian behind me. We weaved in and out of the camp that had seemingly sprouted up out of the ground like the oddly-colored lichen, dodging men running back and forth between the white tents. And then we passed by a huge, red tent with open flaps. I knew immediately that this was Nasuada's pavilion. But we hurried past it to a row of larger, cream-colored tents along the riverbank. At the very last tent on the right, the guard stopped and stood at attention by the opening.

"Why are we here?" I asked.

"Lady Nasuada and King Orrin have designated these tents for all members of the Varden that are of higher value." Something in the way he said this last phrase made me think he hated me very much. Not that I blamed him. I didn't feel like I was worth anything more than some of these men, and I hated being singled out. I thanked him as genuinely as I could and then ducked through the flap of the tent, pulling Praetorian behind me.

Inside the tent, it was huge. There was a comfortable-looking cot covered in linens and a lantern hanging from the center pole that held up the top of the tent. There was also a writing desk and chair on the other side, and a huge trunk for storing my clothes and weapons. On top of all that, there were still ample amounts of open space. Perfect for sparring by myself if I wished to. Praetorian nickered softly and I rubbed his snout, dropping my things near the cot and then leading him back outside. There was a water trough and food bucket at the sides of all the tents, and he lapped up the water greedily. I took his tack off and laid it by the water trough, and then picketed him near the tent. This end of the camp was not nearly as smog ridden as the rest of it, so I didn't feel hesitant to leave him outside.

When I returned to the tent, I took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. And as I unpacked my things I felt the nervousness building in my stomach. All of this suddenly seemed so real, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for it.

 

* * *

 

 Eragon's POV

 Saphira landed with a thump on the hard ground, jarring my bones and teeth. Orik fumbled with the straps about his legs and then fell to the ground with a groan.

"I'll die happy if I never have to take another fall like that," he complained, straightening out his jerkin. We'd narrowly avoided the arrows that had been shot at us in fear, and now that we were safely on the ground I felt a sense of overwhelming relief. _We'd made it._ But there was only one thing I was dreading... _Tabby._

 It had been so long, and our last meeting had not ended the way I wanted it to. I was nervous to see her again, but I knew it needed to be done sooner rather than later _. 'I'm going to look around for a while,'_ I said to Saphira, rubbing her nose affectionately.

' _Of course, little one,'_ she replied, shaking like a wet dog. _'She'll be glad to see you, I'm sure of it.'_

' _That isn't what I was thinking!'_ I argued uselessly. She could read my thoughts after all.

_'Of course, little one,'_ she repeated. She made a deep rumbling sound in her chest that I knew was her way of laughing. I just rolled my eyes at her, rubbed her head one last time, and then headed into the camp. As always, men flocked to Saphira and made a circle around her, gawking and gaping at her. I just pushed through them and began my search.

My mind spread out over the camp, trying to sift through all of the thoughts and feelings that were flooding my head. It was simple enough to focus on the feelings instead of the words, and that made it easier to look. There were mostly men, and just a few women. But none of those women that I came across were Tabby. They had told me in Aberon that she had joined the Varden on their trek, but where could she possibly be? It didn't take long for me to lose my hope, as my search seemed to go on forever. It came to the point that I almost gave up and asked a passing soldier if he knew where she was, but then I felt an unexpected block. Whoever's mind this was, they had been well-trained to guard their thoughts.

I ran down a row of cream-colored tents, past Nasuada's red pavilion, and then to the very end of the row. This mind that was so well-defended was in the last tent on the right, and I felt an incurable curiosity as to who this warrior was. It was rude, I knew, to just barge into a tent unannounced, but my curiosity won out in the end. I pushed aside the flap of the tent to peer inside, and almost fell over in shock. For a moment, I just stood there unable to speak. But I finally found my voice.

"Tabby," I whispered softly. She whirled around, the sword she'd just been polishing held aloft in a striking position.

"Who are you?" she demanded threateningly. I just studied her for a moment, marveling at how different she looked.

Her hair was definitely longer, cascading down her back almost to her hips, and she grown about an inch or two taller. Where the softness of childhood had once been now bore the lean muscle of a trained warrior. There was a graceful litheness to her movements; they held the fluidity of a cat stalking its prey. She'd been tanned by the sun, and there was something different about her violet eyes. They held a new light of knowledge and surety behind them.

"Tabby," I said again, more firm this time. "It's me." My voice was shaking with nerves. She continued to stare at me warily for a moment, her sword held high. Then, when I was certain she would never know me, a light of recognition entered her eyes. She dropped her sword slowly and the stern look disappeared from her face.

"Eragon," she breathed. She continued to just stand there for a moment, and then... "Eragon!" She ran to me and jumped into my arms, holding me tightly against her. It felt so good to have her back in my arms.

"Tabatha... Oh, Tabby how I have missed you," I said. She pulled away and then I saw her amethyst eyes inspecting my face.

"I didn't recognize you. You look so different! What happened to you?" Her arms were still wrapped around my neck and I wondered if I was blushing at all.

"It's a bit of a long story..." I hesitated. How to explain all that had happened to me in the short amount of time that we had? "While I was in Ellesmera, I discovered that there is another Rider still alive, hidden deep in the forest of Du Weldenvarden."

"What? That's wonderful. Now perhaps we'll have a fighting chance against the king!" Her face was alight with happiness, and I hated to be the one to put it in check.

"No, it isn't like that. The Rider and his dragon—Oromis and Glaedr—they are injured, the both of them. They cannot fight in the way that we would need them to. That's why they have hidden for so long—to train the next Rider that came along." Her face fell as understanding dawned on her. "But they healed me, Tabatha. I am no longer plagued by the pain in my back. Saphira and Glaedr and the spirits of other dragons combined their powers to heal me, and in doing so they made me look like an elf. I'm sort of a hybrid now."

"You certainly do look like an elf," she remarked, chuckling slightly. "And I am glad your back no longer pains you. Come sit; tell me more of your adventures." It was just like having the old Tabby back. I told her a few of the things that I had learned, and that I'd seen an image of my mother while in Ellesmera, but I didn't go into too much detail. I didn't want to waste what little time we had.

"Saphira and I just got in, and I was searching the minds of everyone in the camp looking for you." She picked up her hand-and-a-half sword and began sharpening it with a whetstone. "Then I ran into an unexpected block, and that's how I found you." She smiled slightly.

"I've been learning to shield myself better from a... friend," she said sheepishly, keeping her eyes locked on her sword. I knew there was something she was hesitating to tell me, but I didn't push. If she wanted to tell me, she would in her own time.

"Well, whoever taught you, they must have been a great warrior. It's very impressive. The only other person I've come across whose mind is your rival would be Murtagh—" I regretted the words as soon as they came out of my mouth. She paused for a moment, took a deep break, and then went back to sharpening her sword. "Tabby, I'm so sorry. I wasn't thinking—"

"No," she said, cutting me off, "it's all right. I've grieved for him, and now I'm ready to move on. I will never forget him, but I've accepted that he's gone for good." She looked at me and smiled endearingly, and I felt my heart quicken. I wanted so badly to tell her right then and there how I felt, but I knew that would have been in poor taste after what I'd just said. And besides, I'd already been rejected by one woman... I didn't want it to happen again so soon. Her friendship was more important to me.

"Good," was all I could come up with to say. She smiled sadly and then looked over at me. "Well, I must go see Nasuada and prepare for the battle. I'll be back soon." I stood from the cot and then bade her farewell as I exited her tent.

When I was outside, I tried to breathe deeply but found it difficult with the overhanging cloud. I hung my head and thought to myself, _'What an idiot I am...'_

 

* * *

 

 Tabatha's POV

 Once Eragon was gone, I could breathe again. The talk of Murtagh had made me uncomfortable, and it still hurt to think that he was gone. Eragon must have sensed my discomfort; that's why he left so quickly. But I had to come up with something to say. I didn't want to hear his pitying words. But the more I thought about what I had told him, the more I realized that I needed to make the words true. I had to move on with my life, or else I'd be stuck in a state of misery forever; I didn't want that. I would never forget Murtagh and the time we'd shared—or the love we bore for one another—but I needed to move on. Perhaps I would find someone else; perhaps I wouldn't.

I put my sword back in its sheath and then fell back against the bed, staring up at the cloth ceiling of the tent. Gregorio was a viable option, but he'd been acting strange lately and I still didn't completely trust him. My thoughts flashed back to what Murtagh had told me about making people believe Eragon and I were an item... but I loved him like a brother and nothing more. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to lead him on and make him believe I loved him when I knew he had very real feelings for me. I thought of Miles, and the disdain I held for him, and then immediately banished the thought from my mind. Besides, he reminded me too much of Murtagh; it would do me any good to be with him if my intention was to move on from Murtagh's death. Of course, there was always Count Evander. I had really liked him, but there was the problem that he was a noble in Galbatorix's court, and therefore couldn't be completely trusted. It seemed I was destined to lead a lonely and loveless life.

I sighed heavily and then sat up on the bed, hugging my knees to my chest. Perhaps that would be the best option... Anyone I loved would end up getting hurt because of my father, or because of me... Maybe it would just be better for everyone if I didn't love anymore...

 

* * *

 

 Unknown POV

The day of reckoning was getting closer. Soon, my mission would be at hand. I'll only get one chance to do it right. If I fail, he'll surely kill me. She's grown stronger from what I hear, but I'm not afraid. I'll have to catch her while she's unawares, and I know just how to do it. Perhaps this won't be as difficult as I had first thought.


	33. Battle of the Burning Plains

Tabatha's POV

The next morning, we awoke to a changed world. Across the sulfuric fields was an army stretching three miles across. They formed a daunting black wall, and I could feel the pit of my stomach tightening. This is it; today is the day that I get to show my father just what I'm made of. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply as we stood in the ranks, tightening my grip on the hilt of my sword. Here today, I was going to meet my destiny.

It was still early morning; the cloud of smoke hung low, and the sun had not yet risen to break through its shadow. I stared across the darkened field, my face set in grim determination.

"You alright?" a voice asked me at my side. Blinking rapidly to come back to reality, I saw Gregorio sitting atop a chestnut stallion. Praetorian shifted his weight uncomfortably at the new company.

"Yes, I'm fine," I replied unsteadily, my voice wavering slightly. "Just nervous and excited, that's all." He just nodded and turned his attention back to the vast open space before us. I didn't mind though; I actually preferred the silence. It was the calm before the storm.

I shifted my gaze to the left to see Eragon mounted on Saphira. Her brilliant blue scales were covered with heavy plate armor, just as Eragon was. Next to them was Arya, looking quite superior in her own armor atop a white mare. It amazed me that I still felt as much disdain for her as the day I'd first lain eyes on her. Nasuada was beside them on a roan charger, bedecked in men's armor as well. I'd been given a heavy leather jerkin that laced down the sides and a metal pauldron to protect my neck and shoulders, as well as greaves and vambraces. I'd declined the gauntlets though, as they restricted my hand movement too much. I would need to be able to maneuver my sword easily if I was to survive this encounter.

We began padding slowly across the no-man's-land. With any luck, the Empire hadn't seen us. The seconds crept by like hours, and every breath seemed more precious than the last. When we had crossed almost three-quarters of the open space, Galbatorix's men finally saw us. I heard Nasuada shout something to Eragon, but they were too far for me to hear. And then everything seemed to happen all at once.

Bodies surged forward in a wave of clanging armor and pounding hooves. The men around me—Gregorio included—were shouting like Wildmen with their swords raised high above their heads. I unsheathed my sword as well and held it at the ready for any foes I might encounter. Suddenly, I sensed a presence across the field with massive stores of energy and magic. I could only assume that this was my father, and dread filled my heart. If he was here, then we were done for.

But it was too late now. We had to try; we would die either way if we chose to fight or run. Praetorian sped into a gallop to match the pace of the men around us. I glanced up into the sky and saw Eragon and Saphira speeding overhead. She was truly a beautiful sight to behold, with her sapphire scales glittering in the orange light of dawn.

' _Be careful, Tabby,'_ Eragon said within my mind.

 _'Same for you,'_ I replied. Saphira let out a mighty roar and spat a jet of blue flame at the opposing army. It took only another moment for our two forces to collide in a clangor of metal upon metal. Not long after that, the screams of the dying filled the air.

Fighting against men was vastly different from fighting Urgals. The Urgals had just been bloodthirsty monsters, with no real training, and that attacked in random, frenzied movements. But men in armies were trained to kill with precision and speed, while expending as little energy as possible. Their movements all had purpose, and I was beginning to think this may have been harder than I previously thought.

I soon found that battling from horseback—especially a horse as powerful as Praetorian—gave me an advantage over the men on the ground. And I was especially grateful for all of Braeden's teaching. I cut down man after man that came across my path. And by keeping my grip on the saddle with my legs—a skill I had finally perfected—I was able to wield my sword with my right hand and propel discs of pure energy at the enemy with the other. Although Braeden and I had worked on my stamina, I soon found I needed to take a rest from the magic.

The battle began to shift, and I noticed groups of men were breaking off from the main force, contending with each other in smaller groups. This was not going to be good... If we were cut off from one another in smaller forces, then the vastly superior numbers of the Empire were going to overwhelm us. If we didn't form back up, we were all going to be killed.

 _'Eragon!'_ I shouted, trying to find him. I couldn't see him anywhere in the sky, and I began to worry. What if the worst had happened?

 _'Tabatha!'_ his voice came. I slashed at a soldier to my right. _'What's wrong?'_

 _'The Empire is going to overtake us if we don't do something. Where are you and Saphira!'_ No reply came, but I didn't have time to wonder. Slashing wildly with my sword, I took out another three men successively, but they just kept coming in huge waves against us. We were going to lose this fight...

 _'Tabby, to the river! Quickly!'_ Eragon's voice sounded urgent, and I didn't have time to argue. With a swift kick to his haunches, I angled Praetorian away from the smaller group of men that had surrounded us. I hacked my way through their line and into a clearer space where I could maneuver. From here, I could see that the battle was going badly for us all along the field. Then I caught a glimpse of Saphira's huge form on the ground, near the river, and close to a man clad in golden armor. When I reached them, I realized it was the dwarf king, Hrothgar. Behind him was a host of near thirty-thousand. My heart leapt in my chest as I realized we may be able to hold out against the Empire after all.

"Eragon!" I shouted. His head snapped around towards me. "What in the seven hells are you doing on the ground! Get in the air!"

"The dwarves—" he began to argue, but I cut him off.

"I will protect them," I said hotly. "You get back in the air and rain fire from above. It's our only chance!" He set his mouth in a firm line and then nodded. Saphira unfurled her wings and then vaulted into the clouded air. A jet of flame poured out of her mouth and bathed the Empire's reserves in a blanket of fire. I turned back to the dwarves and saw they were advancing against the flank, their heavy iron armor protecting them from most of the blows of the Empire's swords. Calling upon my magic, I sent balls of energy into the enemy's ranks, reveling in the feeling of power as they erupted and split the ranks apart. The men didn't even have time to cry out before my power stole their lives away. As disconcerting as it was, the more men I slaughtered, the more powerful I became. It was as though I was absorbing their energy into myself.

We quickly dispatched of the Imperial soldiers, but the other groups of our men were not faring so well. If we didn't turn the tide quickly, there would be no option but retreat. Then from behind me there came a great shout. When I looked back at the Jiet River, I saw a group of longships slowly floating down the blackened river. Galbatorix has brought more men! Now I knew for sure that we were beaten. I looked up as Saphira roared above me; they were headed towards the river, and hopefully they could stop the men before they reached the shore. But then I saw Eragon's face, and realized he was grinning like an idiot. _What in the world?_

' _Tabby, it's the villagers from Carvahall! It's Roran!'_ he shouted to me. My heart beat faster as a similar grin spread over my face. _How could that be?_ I turned Praetorian and spurred him back towards the river to meet the ships as they butted against the shore. The gangplank was lowered and Roran came bounding down to the ground, wielding a hammer I recognized from my uncle's forge.

"Roran!" I yelled, jumping down from Praetorian's saddle and running over to him. When he caught my eye, I saw a broad smile spread across his face.

"Tabby?" he asked in disbelief. "What on earth are you doing here? You've been with Eragon this entire time?" I jumped into his arms and wrapped him in quick hug before answering.

"Yes, I left with him after the Ra'zac attacked the farm," I explained, pulling away. His features darkened and that's when I took a moment to really look at him. He'd grown a bit since last I saw him; he'd always been muscular, but now it seemed more pronounced. I noticed an ugly scar on his shoulder that I couldn't begin to imagine where it came from. And then there were his eyes... where once they had been full of joy, now they only carried anger and determination. "Roran... what's happened to you?"

"Much," he replied shortly. "The Ra'zac have been plaguing Carvahall ever since you left. Sloan betrayed all of us and they took him and Katrina away. Everyone in the village would have died if we hadn't gotten out of there when we did. I'll explain more later. But for now, we must help if we're going to win this battle." I smiled at him once more, immeasurably grateful for their help, and remounted Praetorian. As I looked around the familiar faces, I didn't see my uncle or aunt anywhere, and I wondered if they had been killed in the raids. I didn't have time to dwell though; the Empire's ranks were advancing against us. I turned Praetorian back to the battle and sent balls of energy flying at any group of enemy soldiers I could find. Everything began to blur suddenly, and I could feel the power coursing through my body. When I looked down at my body, I seemed to be glowing from within. Was this a repeat of my episode in Farthen Dur? I could only hope not...

When I realized that the conscripted soldiers of the Empire were beginning to throw down their arms and flee, triumph swelled in my chest. Perhaps all hope was not lost! But before I could celebrate any further, a great crash sounded from the back of the Empire's ranks, closest to their encampment. A white light flashed in my peripheral and bodies started flying everywhere. _This can only be the work of magic..._

I spurred Praetorian into a frenzied gallop to that end of the battle, weaving in and out of groups of men fighting one another. Spreading my mind out, I searched for the magicians responsible. And when I found them, a flash of heated anger coursed throughout my entire body. Those nameless, ugly, bald-headed, traitors! My rage overwhelmed my senses at the sight of the Twins, and I pushed forward through the throngs of soldiers to rip their hearts out myself. I was getting closer to those white-robed bastards when I suddenly stopped short. The ground was beginning to shake beneath Praetorian's hooves, but I looked to see that Saphira was still up in the air. What I heard next made my bones shake with fear.

A mighty roar sounded across the battlefield... but Saphira's mouth was clamped shut and still the roar continued. Eragon looked terrified out of his wits, and I felt the same fear within myself. It seemed Galbatorix was going to show himself.

 _'Stay strong, Eragon,'_ I said, trying my best to reassure both he and Saphira. _'You don't have to fight him if you don't feel you are ready.'_

' _No,'_ he replied firmly, ' _I will stand up to him. Get to safety, Tabatha. I won't take the risk of him capturing you.'_ But before I could respond to him, a loud buffeting resounded through the air, and I knew that could only be the sound of a dragon's wings; a dragon that was much bigger than Saphira. The air vibrated all around me, and I lifted my eyes to see where he would appear. It was a known fact that Galbatorix's dragon, Shruikan, was black as death. But the dragon I and everybody else saw was as red as freshly spilt blood. The breath caught in my throat... _Galbatorix has finally found another Rider.._.

The mood on the battlefield immediately shifted. We knew we were outnumbered from the very beginning, but we'd at least thought that having a Rider on our side would even things out. Now that there was a Rider fighting for the Empire as well, it seemed as though all hope was lost. The Rider wore a full suit of shining plate, complete with a helmet that fully obscured their face, making it impossible to discern their gender. I watched with fear as the two dragons collided in the sky in a frenzy of talons and fangs. I could only hope that Eragon was not faring too badly.

Back on the field, things weren't looking much better. With the dwarves' added strength, we were able to push back, but their numbers far outweighed our own still. If Eragon could not defeat this new Rider, there would be no way we could win. I slashed wildly at the men around me, not even taking a second glance at those who fell to my blade. Seeing the Red Rider had given me a renewed sense of urgency. We had no choice but to win this battle now. I lost all sense of time in my quest to destroy every enemy that crossed my path. It wasn't until I heard a great bellowing from above me that I came back to myself. When I looked to the sky, I saw that Saphira was coming in for a landing, the massive red dragon hot on her tail. They crashed to the ground, shaking the scorched earth beneath me, and my heart leapt into my throat. _Eragon was in trouble!_ I yanked on Praetorian's reins and steered him toward where I'd seen the two dragons fall.

When they came into my sight, I saw that both Riders and their dragons had fallen upon a plateau that was raised above the rest of the battlefield. Eragon held a strained expression on his face, and I knew the two Riders were engaging in a battle of the mind. Saphira was crouched behind Eragon, her mouth set into a vicious snarl. Being this close to the two of them, it stood out even more just how much bigger the red dragon was than Saphira. How had Galbatorix managed to keep these two hidden for so long? I had to guess the dragon was at least a year old, given his superior size. Eragon suddenly dropped to his knees and fell to the ground, his arms strangely pinned to his size. Saphira too, was unmoving. Whoever this Rider was, they were an extremely powerful magician. As I reached the plateau, the Red Rider was slowly coming towards where Eragon lay upon the ground, his sword extended threateningly. I pulled one leg out of the stirrup and swung it over the side, balancing myself over the saddle's horn until I was right next to the raised ground. With a powerful push of my legs, I vaulted off of Praetorian's back and rolled to the ground, coming up in a crouch with my sword held ready to strike.

"I will kill you if you touch him," I growled threateningly, slowly coming to my feet. The Red Rider stopped short at my sudden appearance and shifted their gaze to me. I knew now that this Rider was most certainly a man; he was too tall and narrow of hip to be anything else. It was somewhat disconcerting to stare down a man whose eyes I could not see, but I banished the thought from my head quickly. If I was to do battle with him, I would need a clear head. Silently, I sent up a quick prayer to the gods as he drew his sword from its weathered sheath. His dragon shifted and crouched behind him, growling deeply in his throat, and I heard Eragon grunting behind me.

 _'Tabatha,'_ Eragon said desperately, _'don't do this. This man is very dangerous; he could kill you!'_

 _'And if I don't, he'll kill_ you _instead,'_ I retorted hotly, never taking my eyes off of the other Rider. _'You just worry about breaking the hold he has on you; I'll take care of him myself.'_ He grunted again behind me as he worked against whatever magic the Rider was employing to keep him pinned. I kept my sword ready in a striking position, challenging the Rider silently. He squared his shoulders and drew his own sword. It was a hand-and-a-half, just like mine. At least we would be evenly matched in that area. The only worry I had was his superior strength and use of magic. But the magic I used was different than his; I would have to employ every trick I knew if I was going to best him. Taking a deep breath, I tuned out the rest of the world and focused only on the man before me.

We circled each other at first, getting a feel for one another's movements. I moved fluidly, making sure not to have any breaks in my movement. He strode confidently in front of me, his head held erect in a proud manner. There was no doubt in my mind that this man had once been a noble, by the haughty way he carried himself. If that were the case, then he'd most likely been trained in the art of the sword since he was very young. It was unclear to me what his age was, but he would still be more experienced than me. He gazed back at me, completely unreadable beneath his helm. There was a small slit for his eyes, but I couldn't see into the darkness to even try and read him. This would be unlike any battle I'd ever fought.

I lunged forward suddenly, hoping to take him by surprise, but he easily knocked the blow away. I had expected him to slash right back, but his sword fell to the side, trailing the ground slightly. By now, we'd circled so far that my back was to his dragon. I only hoped he had some honor and that he wouldn't order his dragon to attack me from behind. But I continued moving without my head getting snapped off, so I relaxed a bit. It would do me no good to be tense against him. The Red Rider aimed a swipe at my neck, but I pushed him away easily. He struck once more at my thigh, but again I blocked the blow. His strikes seemed lazy, and it was then that I realized he was only trying to wear me down.

"Enough of this feinting!" I screamed in anger. "Fight me, you coward!" The Red Rider visibly stiffened and I knew I'd struck a nerve somewhere. He rushed forward and attacked with a combination of lunges and swipes, but I held him off. He brought his sword down in a swipe aimed for the unprotected area under my pauldron, but I brought my sword up just in time. His blade wedged against the crossguard, hovering mere inches above my skin. I pushed back against him, feeling my muscles shaking against the pressure he was putting on me. It took every ounce of my strength to push him off, the screech of metal scraping across metal jarring to my ears. He staggered backward at my sudden show of strength, but he didn't seem fazed.

As the fight wore on, I felt myself growing only slightly tired, but he never seemed to get any weaker. Whatever magic he was drawing upon to supplement his strength, I couldn't imagine how long he'd been training to get to this level. I then realized my only chance to defeat him would be to somehow disarm him. But that was easier said than done. It was obvious that the Red Rider was a master swordsman. He quickened his pace to try and catch me unawares, but I was always able to block him just in time... but only just. He slashed at my upper arm and then quickly dodged my parry, working around behind me to wrap his steel-plated arm around my neck and placing me in a sort of half-hearted chokehold. With a swift elbow to his gut, I was able to wriggle free of his grip and turn back to face him. I quickly realized though that he was holding back. He wasn't even trying to hurt me... He must have been under orders from Galbatorix to bring me back to him, alive and unhurt. _Well, that just won't do..._

I stepped up my game, drawing upon my reserves of energy and feeling it buzzing within my body. The white and purple light started to cover my entire body in a halo of energy. The Rider halted for a split second, unsure of how to handle this new development, but I didn't give him time to think. With a savage scream, I burst forward and brought my sword down on his pauldron. He didn't bring his sword up in time, but the armor was of such a fine make that my sword just glanced off, not even causing any damage. This only served to anger me more. My blade was glowing now with the purple light, making the steel buzz from the energy coursing through it. Sparks flew as our blades clashed together, faster and faster. In my haste and fury, I made a fatal mistake though. I left my defenses open for a split second, and the Rider didn't waste any time seizing the opportunity. He stuck the point of his sword against the crossguard and hilt and made a swirling motion, ripping the blade from my grasp. As the sword flew from my hands, the purple light dissipated, and I watched with horror as it landed on the ground three feet away with a metallic _thump._

The Rider drew back his arm and made to swipe at me, and I raised my vambrace-covered arm to protect myself. The blade skid harmlessly off the steel, but the force behind the blow knocked me to the ground. I landed hard on the burnt earth and fell to my back, crying out at the sudden pain.

"Tabatha!" Eragon screamed helplessly from behind me. Saphira grunted fiercely, trying to open her mouth but finding it bound by magic. This was it... _This was the end..._

My opponent strode towards me purposefully, holding his sword out to the side. This all seemed suddenly very familiar, but I pushed the thought away. He was getting closer, his aim to finish me. _Perhaps my father wanted me dead after all..._ The Red Rider lifted his sword and twirled it at his side, preparing for the final blow. My breath caught in my throat... _No... It can't be..._ As my mind raced with thoughts, I realized there was only one thing that I could do.

I arched my back and put my hands behind the line of my shoulders, pushing up off the ground with as much force as I could muster in my weakened state. My boot hit him square in the jaw, vibrating from the impact with his helm. The Rider went flying backwards to the ground. I landed in a crouching position and tore my dragonbone dagger from the leg of my boot. Flying forward to land on top of my foe, I lodged the dagger against the now-exposed skin of his throat, drawing a trickle of blood. My breath was becoming labored as I straddled his armored torso, and my hair was falling down about my face. This can't be... _I have to know!_

Time seemed to slow to a halt as I reached down and slipped my fingers beneath the edge of his helm. The Red Rider was breathing steadily now, not even attempting to push me off of him. His arms lay limp at his side, and his chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. It was getting harder to breathe as I pulled at the helmet to reveal his face. I could see a bit of dark stubble on his chin, then his lips, next I saw the straight line of his nose, and then... and then his eyes. When I saw those eyes boring into me, I stopped breathing completely. As I took the helm off the rest of the way, his locks of dark hair fell about him in a black halo. I stared down in shock at the face I'd been dreaming of for months; those eyes that had haunted me since last I saw them.

"No," I whispered, throwing his helm off to the side. This whole thing had to be a dream, and I was about to wake up any second inside my tent. "No... it can't be..." He stared up at me helplessly. "This can't be..." But no matter how much I said it to myself, I knew that what I was seeing was real. This whole thing was real... _Murtagh._

"Tabby," he finally whispered. A few days ago, I would have sold my soul to the gods to hear him say my name again. But now... it felt as though a knife had been stabbed through my heart, and the assailant was cruelly twisting it back and forth.

"No!" I screamed, jumping off of him, only to fall backwards again. He twisted to his knees and then rose to his feet, trying to come towards me.

"Tabatha, listen—"

"No!" I screamed again, placing my hands over my ears and shaking my head wildly, willing it all to go away. _This can't be happening to me! Not him! Anyone but him!_

"You!" Eragon roared from where he was still powerlessly bound on the ground. Saphira thrashed wildly trying to break free, startling the great red dragon.

"Shut up!" Murtagh barked fiercely, snapping his gaze to Eragon. "I'll deal with you in a moment." Eragon fell silent, but I continued to back away, using my hands to push myself backwards. He kept coming toward me, arms held out in a gesture of peace... just the way he'd looked when first we'd met outside Dras-Leona. How different things had suddenly become... His grey eyes were pleading with me to listen. "Tabby," he said softly.

"Get away from me!" I screamed, finally finding the strength to get to my feet. He tried to rush forward but I dodged around him and ran with what little strength I had left. "Just stay away from me!" I knew I should have stayed to help Eragon, but my senses were overwhelmed with grief. _How could he still be alive? And he's working for my father! This can't be real!_ I saw Praetorian standing at the edge of the plateau; that was my only escape route. My vision narrowed to only him, focusing simply on getting as far away from here as possible. Nothing else mattered. And that was my undoing. I wasn't paying attention, and I paid dearly for it.

A flash of light blinded me, and then there was only pain. My knees hit the ground, and I found I couldn't get back up. _What happened?_ When I turned to look, the last thing I saw was Murtagh with his arm extended towards me. He'd attacked me with magic, and now he was going to take me to Galbatorix like the traitor that he was...

 

* * *

 

Unknown POV

I had done it. I didn't think it would be that easy, but it had been. She'd been so blinded that it was like shooting a sitting duck. A few of the king's men hurried over and picked her up off the ground to carry her away. A couple more tried to contain her horse while it bucked wildly. But I paid them no mind and followed those that were carrying her at a distance. They stole her away into the camp without being noticed and quickly ducked inside a tent.

I followed inside the cream-colored tent and watched with interest as they laid her down on the huge bed within. She looked so peaceful lying there, but there would be hell to raise when she awoke. That wouldn't be a problem though. With the spell I put on her, we'll have been in Uru'baen for a week by the time she wakes up. Then, that uncouth and ill-bred Rider, Murtagh, strode in. He wasn't happy, that much was evident, but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Galbatorix's hold on him was tight indeed.

"She looks so peaceful, doesn't she?" I mocked, poison dripping from my every word. I knew how he felt about her, but that just made his pain all the more enjoyable. He glared at me menacingly, but I wasn't fazed in the slightest. The king wouldn't let him do anything to me.

"You better not have hurt her," he threatened.

"Don't worry about that," I laughed. "Your precious Tabatha will be just fine."

"She had better be," a deep voice intoned from behind us. I turned and both Murtagh and I instantly fell to our knees.

"Of course she will, Your Majesty," I said, bowing my head. Galbatorix stopped at the side of the bed where she lay unconscious. He reached out a long-fingered hand and stroked her hair softly, causing a pang of jealousy to shoot through my chest.

"She looks like her mother," he whispered. The words were barely audible, but I still heard them. Slowly, he turned back to the pair of us where we were still groveling on the ground. "You did well." This was directed at me, and I couldn't help the smirk of triumph that spread across my face. "Now come; the battle is lost. It's time for my daughter to come home."


	34. Turning Point

Eragon's POV

Everything still felt like a dream. I seemed to be staring at the world through a clouded lens; the men moving around me were ringed with fog and their movements seemed sluggish and weighted. My gaze tilted to the sky from where I sat upon the ground, following the form of the huge red dragon and the Rider upon his back. _Why couldn't it have been someone else? Anyone but him..._ Murtagh had told me we were brothers; that Morzan was my father. I didn't know whether or not to believe him, but the thought itself disgusted me _. How could my mother have loved that monster? And why had she abandoned Murtagh to him? What had happened?_ Saphira stood at my side silently, leaving me to my thoughts. She had no more answers than I did.

But even more than myself, my heart was breaking for Tabatha. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was in love with Murtagh, but she'd told me she was over the fact that he was dead. To have him back just like that—and under the circumstances—I can't even imagine the pain she must be feeling right now. I shook my head and the fog slowly receded from my eyes _. Where had she gone?_ I needed to find her; she needed me right now. Slowly, I got to my knees and then pushed my weary body to its feet.

 _'I need to find Tabby,'_ I said to Saphira. She shifted at my side and gazed at me in concern. The battle was over and we had won, but there were things I still needed to do.

 _'Do what you must, little one,'_ she replied, nudging my shoulder with her nose. _'I'll be right behind you. We'll find her together.'_ We stepped off the plateau and headed onto the battlefield. There were men already checking the bodies of their fallen comrades—looking for those that were wounded and those that could not be saved. As I searched all the faces around me, and the ones laying on the ground, I didn't find Tabatha anywhere. My search continued on into the afternoon, and with every passing second there was a growing fear that took hold of my heart. What if she had been caught off guard by one of the Imperial soldiers and was killed? Or worse... _what if she'd been captured?_

 _'Saphira,'_ I called desperately. _'Do you see her? I can't find her!'_ I spread out my consciousness to the battlefield, but there were too many minds to search through. Saphira lent me her strength, but I didn't sense her. My palms began to sweat and my heart was hammering in my chest. With whatever little amount of strength I had left, I sprinted through the tents of the camp, racing toward Nasuada's pavilion.

She was there recovering from the battle and removing her armor. "Eragon?" she said in surprise at my arrival. "What is it? What's happened?"

"Tabatha," I replied simply. "She's missing." Nasuada's eyes widened as she leaned forward in her chair.

"We'll send a group out to look for her," she said firmly.

"I'm going back out there. I won't forgive myself if something's happened to her."

"Nor will I." Nasuada then called to one of her advisors to form a search party. I left quickly to find Saphira standing stoically at the base of the hill the pavilion was set upon. Her sapphire eyes bore into me, an immeasurable sadness locked within them.

 _'Eragon,'_ she whispered desperately. _'I sense her. She's... she's been taken.'_ My heart plummeted into my gut and the world seemed to spin around me. Our worst fears had finally been realized.

 

* * *

 

Murtagh's POV

The sun was hanging low in the sky as Uru'baen came into my sight. The caravans, wagons, and soldiers far below trudged through the steady rain that was falling. Thorn flapped his wings lazily to avoid pulling too far ahead of them, but it would be at least another half hour before they arrived at the city. The orange light breaking through the clouds was beginning to dim and disappear. I closed my eyes against the slanting rain and an image of Tabatha's face burned in my memory. I would never forget the look of hurt and betrayal on her face when she'd unmasked me. As soon as she realized I was the Rider under Galbatorix, I'd felt so ashamed. What's more than that, I'll never forgive myself for causing that hurt I saw etched into her eyes... those beautiful violet eyes…

Thorn growled slightly underneath me and I felt us losing altitude _. 'Partner-of-my-heart-and-mind,'_ he said morosely, _'do not blame yourself. I chose you as my Rider; the black-king enslaved us. We had no choice after he'd learned our true names.'_

_'I still can't help feeling like I've betrayed her. She won't forgive me.'_

_'She will._ ' He snapped his teeth slightly. _'From what I have seen of your memories, she loves you deeply. She will come to understand that we had no choice in the matter.'_

 _'We shall see,'_ I grumbled. When I looked down at the caravan, I easily spotted the king's gilded carriage and my heart leapt forward in my chest. Tabatha was in there right now, and there was nothing I could do to save her. _'Let's land, Thorn. I want to be down there when they bring her in.'_ He angled his massive, crimson body towards the ground. We swooped overhead of the procession and into the city, pulling ahead of them with our superior speed. Thorn angled gracefully around the tall stone spires and flew beneath the shadow of the overhang. If ever Eragon got it into his head to try and attack the city itself, he would be hard-pressed to surmount the fortifications. The black citadel rose up out of the sheer cliff face, a daunting edifice that sent a plummet of fear through my chest. When we reached the massive Dragon Hold at the top of one of the black towers, Thorn alighted onto the platform with a loud _thump._

 _'Watch yourself, Murtagh,'_ he said, nudging my shoulder lightly but still throwing me slightly off balance. _'Don't do anything rash in front of the king.'_

 _'I won't Thorn. But if he tries to hurt her... I'm not sure what I'll do.'_ He sent me comforting feelings and I rubbed his nose.

 _'I shall wait for you in our quarters.'_ He walked off, shaking the stone beneath him and then disappeared into one of the many openings in the huge, cavernous space. My footsteps echoed off of the stone as I rushed out of the Dragon Hold and down into the castle that was my prison. Servants bowed and rushed to get out of my way as I passed, but I paid them no mind. I felt my face furrowed in anger, and I'm sure I was only reinforcing the fear they already had of me. When I reached the huge doors in the entrance hall, they were already open and awaiting the king's arrival. His gold-plated carriage pulled up to a stop at the doors and a footman rushed to open the door. I stopped at the top of the stairs and waited, arms crossed over my chest.

Galbatorix stepped down from the cab and I felt his presence in my mind, tightening its grip on me. Against every fiber of my being, I bowed to him, knowing that if I didn't Thorn and I would only be punished later. As I rose, I saw a wicked smirk spread across his face.

"Ah, Rider," he exclaimed, arms held out in a falsely welcoming gesture. "I want to congratulate you on your spectacular reveal during the battle. They were caught quite unawares, I do believe." He strode up the steps slowly and then stopped beside me. I kept my eyes averted, but I knew that smirk was still plastered there as he waited for me to respond.

"Thank you, Master," I mumbled.

"Though I must say, you did not do as well as my _other_ servant." I felt the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up at the mention of him, and then the despicable creature hopped out of the carriage, looking as smug as ever. Never had I wanted to kill a man as badly as I did now. "As I recall, you were ordered to capture the female dragon and her Rider. But I do not see them. Where are they, Murtagh?" I kept my eyes downcast at his growing anger. "Where is she!" he yelled, his harsh voice echoing off the stone facade of the castle. Saphira was his only concern, and he already knew I had not delivered her.

"I did not take her, Master," I replied slowly, bracing myself for the pain that was invariably to come.

"And why not?" I flinched away from the poison of his words. If he wasn't so concerned about putting on a good face for his servants and minions, he would have struck me right then and there.

"Mercy... I showed them mercy…" I whispered. Such was his fury, I could almost feel the heat radiating off his body. Slowly and deliberately, he took two steps forward, so we were almost touching. We were nearly the same height, so he only had to lean forward slightly to whisper in my ear.

"You will pay for this, Son of Morzan," he swore in the Ancient Language. "You... and your dragon. I will make you suffer." He pulled away then and looked to his other servant. "Bring her into the castle. Her rooms have already been prepared." He turned away, his black cloak snapping in the wind, and strode purposefully into his castle. I watched as two servants hurried to the carriage, a litter stretched between them, and collected Tabatha's unconscious form out of it. They laid her out on the litter and then picked it up to follow Galbatorix and his minion into the castle. As quietly as possible, I followed behind them.

We gained curious glances from all that we passed in the corridors, but the king just continued to stare blankly forward. His entourage followed closely behind, but I hung back as far as I dared. I didn't want to flare his anger any further. Instead, I peered around the servant in front of me to get a glimpse of Tabby. She was just as beautiful as I remembered, if not a little changed. It seemed she'd been training harder since last I'd seen her. I couldn't imagine what was going to happen when she awoke from the spell that had been placed on her. If she was still as I remembered then her temper was still violent, and I had no desire to be around when it ruptured. But still, I felt a staggering need to speak to her again. Throughout these past months, she's been the only thing that has kept me going. When things were at their darkest, she was the light that gave me the strength to continue on. I have missed her more than anything...

I noticed Galbatorix looking over his shoulder back at her, and his face was full of greed and ambition. I knew exactly what he was planning to use her for, and just the thought of it filled my heart with hatred.

"You would do well to keep your feelings in check, Rider," he spat, the words dripping like poison. "They may prove to be your undoing one day." Rarely did I respond to these remarks that were meant to unnerve me, and this was no exception.

Finally, we came to the room that had been designated for her. The guard posted at the door opened it to allow our group to enter. Galbatorix entered first, and then the servants hurried past to lift Tabatha into the huge canopied bed. The room itself was entirely fit for her station... _Princess._ It was difficult to think of her as royalty, but I would have to from now on. Everyone else would be. She was the king's daughter, and I was just his slave. If things were strained between us, as I knew they would be, having to play the parts we'd been forced into would make it even more so. Even though she looked so peaceful right now in her enchanted sleep, I knew there would be hell to pay when she awoke.

"Be gone," the king ordered, waving his hand dismissively at the servants. They bowed deeply as they backed out of the room and shut the door. We three—the king, his minion, and I—stood there in the palatial room in silence, all staring at Tabatha where she lay. "She will do great things for this Empire one day," Galbatorix continued. I saw his minion shift uncomfortably and a flash of jealousy appeared on his face. That, at least, gave me some kind of satisfaction. He noticed the slight smirk that had come unbidden to my face and he turned scarlet with rage.

"Don't look so smug, Rider." This last word he spat with derision. "Her presence here only knocks you down one more rung on the ladder. You would do well to remember your station."

"As would you, it would seem," I shot back in contempt.

"Enough!" The enmity in his voice gave us both reason to pause. I looked to the king and saw he was standing with his head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. When he turned, his face was oddly taciturn. He stopped at my shoulder, still staring towards the door. "Whatever thoughts you have in your head—and don't think I don't know what they are—banish them at once. She is not here for your enjoyment or pleasure. She is here as my weapon and pawn to use, nothing more. Remember that, or you will find life here to be most unpleasant." I already found it to be unpleasant, but I said nothing in response. He sniffed derisively and then continued walking away, his minion turning and following close behind.

"Come," the king continued, "let us leave her. She will be awake soon... and then the games will begin."


	35. A Family Reunion

Tabatha's POV

There was a hazy light and a warm breeze coming from an open window. The sunlight shining down on me warmed my skin and made it tingle all over. The mattress and linens beneath me were incredibly soft, and I rolled over onto my side to snuggle into one of the feather pillows. A robin whistled his sweet song outside of the window, and the faint sounds of sellers at market and oxen carts rumbling down the street drifted up to my ears. When my eyes fluttered open, I saw white chiffon curtains hanging from the canopied bed, swaying in the breeze. At the window, I noticed a flowerbox hanging over the side and a stack of plain-bound books. A high-backed chair sat angled next to the window, to afford the perfect spot to read. I sat up slowly in the bed, taking in the rest of the room.

It was enormous; nearly three times the size of my room at my aunt and uncle's in Carvahall. A large hearth sat cold and empty, the warm weather doing away with the need for a fire. Shelves were built into the wall on either side of the mantle, filled with volumes of books embossed with gold lettering. A door across from the bed stood slightly open, and I saw a bathroom there. To my right was a huge wardrobe, which I could only assume was full of clothes and shoes. And then there was another door; this one made of solid oak and banded in heavy iron. Where am I? What happened to me? The last thing I remembered was...

_Murtagh._

Everything came flooding back to me in a rush and I found the room spinning about me. My head was pounding and my body ached all over. Quickly, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and yelped at the sudden cold of the hard stone. And as I rushed over to the huge, open window to gaze down at the scene below me, my heart filled with dread. All around me were soaring towers of stone and marble and emerald, reaching up into the bright, blue sky. A vast city spread out before me, reaching so far that I could hardly see anything beyond it. I stuck my head out a little and saw that I myself was high up in a black tower; a tower that was attached to a huge citadel. Overhead was a canopy of stone, shielding the castle that backed up to a sheer cliff face. Down below I could see a large courtyard, teeming with people talking in groups or strolling through the gardens and trees. And to my left, was another tower—much larger than the one I was in—and at the top was what looked like a massive beehive. Openings of varying size dotted the stone structure; leading into what I could only assume was a dragon hold. This could only be one place: Uru'baen.

It took everything within me not to scream. Galbatorix had finally captured me. And then I remembered... Murtagh had attacked me. He'd put some kind of spell on me while my back was turned and then delivered me to my father. How could he? My heart felt like it was shattering into a thousand pieces inside of my chest, breaking against the sharp knife of betrayal. It was heart wrenching enough to find out that he was still alive, but to know that he was in my father's service... The tears began to flow down my face and I found my head buried in my hands. Perhaps when I opened my eyes again, this would all just be a terrible nightmare. But when I opened them, I was still in the palatial room, gasping for breath as the sobs stole mine away from me.

When my tears subsided, I went over to the red velvet chaise that was at the end of the bed and sank down onto its cushions. What am I going to do? I have to get out of here and get back to Eragon and the Varden. But how? And I need to do it before my father begins whatever sinister plans he has for me. As these thoughts coursed through my head, I looked around the room and noticed a trunk next to the wardrobe. I got up to inspect and found my hand-and-a-half sword locked inside, along with Murtagh's yew bow and quiver, and a few sets of breeches and tunics and shirts. Why on earth would my father leave my weapons here? He must have truly been mad. I closed the trunk and then opened the engraved doors to the wardrobe, revealing the beautiful gowns within. There were all sorts of dresses; from evening wear, to riding garb, to ball gowns. Whatever Galbatorix was planning, he certainly was concerned with keeping up appearances. I went back to the trunk and pulled out a black leather pair of breeches and a long-sleeved white shirt made of a thin material that was quite like the curtains on my bed. The clothes I'd been wearing were covered in dirt, grime, and blood, and I was feeling an insatiable need to clean myself.

Inside the washroom was a huge, porcelain claw-foot tub, complete with a copper faucet and handles. This castle must have been situated over a natural spring, else I can't begin to imagine what kind of magic it would take to get running water inside. The warm water rushing over my skin felt very much like what I imagine Paradise would, and the strange scents of the soaps and washes filled my nose with their sweet aromas. The water soon became dirty from the grime coating my skin and hair, and I didn't stay in for too long. Once I was clean, I donned a fresh pair of smallclothes and the garb I'd picked out, and then sat in the sun from the window to let my hair dry. My intention was to face the king, and I would have to look good doing so.

The hinges of the ornate door didn't creak at all as I opened it up, and I wondered just how long the king has been preparing for my arrival. On either side of the door were guards, standing tall and blank-faced with their spears held straight at their sides. They didn't even blink at my appearance, and I wondered if they were meant to guard me or keep me in. When neither of them made to stop me, I only assumed I was free to move about as I wished. But why? Wasn't my father afraid I would escape? I padded as quietly down the hall as possible, and when I turned the corner I stopped short. A man stood there, dressed in fine clothing—a deep blue velvet doublet slashed with white satin and black leather breeches—his hands folded at his waste and a small smile upon his face. A shock of blonde—almost white—hair sat atop his head, and his eyes were a pale blue; so blue that they were almost silver. The man was of a slight build, but his arms were toned, which made me think he was an archer. And he didn't seem terribly surprised to see me.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he said. His voice was pleasant sounding, and his blue eyes shone a bit with a light of happiness. I had to wonder if he was genuine or not. "I hope you rested well?"

His queries caught me off guard; that, and the use of that title that I so abhorred. For a moment, I just stood there staring as he continued to grin at me. What in the world is going on here? "Uh," I stammered, searching for a response, "I suppose so..."

"Excellent!" he chimed in a high tenor. "If you'll be so kind as to follow me, your father would like to se you." My heartbeat quickened as he turned away, but I followed him nonetheless. I would have to face my father eventually; I might as well get it over with.

We traveled through the winding corridors, and I couldn't help but notice how beautiful the castle was. Tapestries and paintings adorned the walls, along with sconces in the shape of skeletal hands holding unlit torches. The walls were flagstone, but the floor was smooth granite. Plush carpets lined the floor and swallowed up the sound of my footsteps. As we descended the tower, I looked out of the glass-paned windows and saw tall trees coming up out of the courtyard. Birds and butterflies flitted by in the sunshine, going about their lives gaily. If I weren't a prisoner here, I think I might have loved it.

The base of the tower opened up into an arcade that went around the massive courtyard; the columns reaching up into the arches decorated with carved vines and flowers. Nobles of all sort were strolling along the seashell paths, their feet crunching against the ground. I watched as they went about their day, seemingly unaffected by the atrocities happening outside of the city. Whenever they caught a glance of me, they would stare in wonderment and disgust at my rough exterior. Although I had washed and changed my clothes, I must have looked like a common urchin to them. All I could do was keep my head down as we hurried along the arcade and into a long hallway.

The hall was carpeted with a long runner of scarlet red, and the walls were smooth marble coming into a wooden, coffered ceiling that arched over at the top, giving it the appearance of a gilded tunnel. We followed this hallway for a while, the strange pale man in front of me never saying another word. I wondered what position he held in my father's household, and whether he knew the circumstances of my birth. Whether he knew how Galbatorix murdered my mother...

At the end of the hall was a massive door of stone, carved with intricate scenes of dragons and their Riders, and runes that I didn't recognize. Four guards—two on each side—stood flanking the huge door with spears. The pale man stopped in front of the door briefly, waited a moment, and then the huge door began to move, swinging outward towards us. It creaked and groaned as the stone scraped against the wall, and then was open enough for us to walk through. If I had to guess, I would think that the door was three times my height. Inside, the room was even more massive. The top of the ceiling was shrouded in darkness, it was so tall. The length of the throne room must have been at least a hundred yards, and at the head of the room stood a huge throne in the shape of dragon's wings. They were spread above the obsidian seat, reaching to the dark heavens above, and tipped with silver spikes. The legs of the chair were in the shape of dragon legs, complete with silver-taloned paws. And upon the chair, crowned with a coronet in the shapes of talons that curved towards his head, was my father. We came closer and then finally the pale man stood before the raised dais that the throne sat upon. He kneeled at the feet of the king, but I remained standing, glaring at my father in angry defiance.

He was not at all as I envisioned him. I'd expected him to be a gnarled, cruel old man with greying hair. But instead, before me sat a man who I wouldn't have thought to be past forty at first glance, with black hair that reached to his shoulder and a well-maintained goatee and mustache peppered with only the slightest of grey. But his eyes... they betrayed his age more than anything else. They were dark, nearly as black as his hair, and full of cruelty and knowledge. His stare sent involuntary shivers up and down my spine.

"Princess Tabatha," he crooned, his voice deceptively warm and inviting. The pale man stood and then turned to walk past me, taking up a spot by the huge stone door at the front of the throne room.

"Father," I growled hatefully, finding it very hard to retain my composure. I had long feared this day would come, and now that it had, every way I had imagined it would be had turned out to be completely wrong.

"It is so wonderful to have my loving daughter home from her studies in the south," he said. A small smirk played at his lips as he fingered the hilt of his sword where he held it, the point resting on the marble at his feet.

"So that is the guise you conjured up? That I've been away studying for the past seventeen years?" My voice echoed eerily in the chamber, betraying the hatred I was trying to quell.

"Of course not," he laughed. "You lived here in the castle until your fifth birthday, and then went away for private schooling in Kuasta, at the behest of my advisors. I was heartbroken, of course, but now it is time for you to return to your rightful place at my side."

"So it was a double then," I sneered. How had he managed to fool all of those people?

"It was not difficult. There were only a select few who were even aware of your existence after your birth; my advisor, Galion, being one of them." He gestured to the pale man where he stood at the back of the hall. "And with a few simple spells, I was able to change the child's eye color to match your own. The deception passed, but I knew I'd have to come up with something to get rid of her." He leaned against the back of the throne nonchalantly, resting his chin on a clenched fist. "But now you are returned to me, and ready to learn how to rule."

"What makes you think I would ever join you?" I demanded hotly, stepping a little closer to the dais. Galbatorix glanced back at the pale man, Galion.

"Leave us!" he barked. I turned to see Galion bowing deeply and then exiting back through the stone door. The sound it made as it closed echoed hollowly in the throne room and then disappeared altogether, leaving only silence. I turned back to the king and waited for him to continue. He leaned forward slightly to stare at me, inspecting every inch of my face. "You look very much like your mother," he said quietly.

"I've been told," I snapped impatiently. "Now speak plainly; what is it you want from me?" A smile spread across his face, revealing a row of white teeth, and he suddenly burst out in a fit of laughter. It was a merciless and inhuman sound, seeming to be more like a screech of a bird of prey.

"You act like her too," he said, peering at me like a scientific specimen behind a pane of glass. His smile stayed plastered on his face, and I was finding it very hard to read this man.

Suddenly, I had a thought that maybe I could unnerve him. "Was there ever a time, in all your years together, that you ever loved my mother? Even in the slightest bit?" It did not have the intended outcome. He actually seemed to ponder the question, as though he were taking a test.

"Once," he finally answered, the word echoing ominously off the stone walls. "I watched her as she held you in her arms, only a few days after you were born. She looked... happy..." His voice faltered slightly, and for a moment he almost looked human... _almost._ "But then I remembered why I'd made offspring with her in the first place."

"So you could use me for your own advantage," I spat, feeling my hands tightening into fists. My nails dug into the palms of my hands, causing angry red marks to form there.

"Of course," he replied cruelly. "What else would you be worth to me?" His head suddenly turned to the right side of the throne room, where I could just make out a dark archway. With a snap of his fingers, the ground began to shake in a rhythmic pounding. From the archway suddenly appeared a glittering black dragon with milky, pale blue eyes... _Shruikan._ The beast was huge, far outweighing both Saphira and Thorn put together; but then he was over a hundred years older than both of them. The dragon settled in next to his master, shifting his wings with a ruffling like a thousand trees. Galbatorix stroked the dragon's snout slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. If this display was meant to frighten me, it wasn't working.

After Shruikan entered, another person came into the room—someone I'd already decided I neither wanted to see or speak to ever again: Murtagh. My face grew hot with anger as he strode into the room purposefully, clad in a black leather jerkin with blood red laces up and down the sides and arms, and embroidered with red jewels in the shape of a dragon breathing fire upon the breast. Behind him came his dragon, shaking the floor slightly less than his predecessor. They settled at the king's left side, standing a ways behind the throne upon the dais. Murtagh had his head downcast and his hands clasped behind his back, averting his eyes from my face. If I'd thought to bring my sword or bow with me, I feared I may have killed him right then and there.

"This," Galbatorix said grandiosely, "is what I want to make you into." He held his hands out to the side in a gesture of triumph, but I saw Murtagh stiffen slightly.

"A Rider?"

"Why not?" he laughed. "You have the bloodline. After all, both of Morzan's sons became Riders." My brow arched involuntarily.

" _Both?_ Morzan had only one son." This last line I spat in Murtagh's direction. But his face remained impassive, studiously avoiding my gaze.

"Ah, only one son that was known," Galbatorix countered, his voice full of glee at my confusion. "The younger son was stolen away while he was still in the womb. His mother sought to save him from the cruelties of his father, so she spirited him away in the dead of night. What a pity she did not hold the same love or regard for her other son. Do you know who this youngest son of Morzan is, Tabatha?" There was only one other person in all of Alagaesia who was a Rider, but I couldn't believe it myself.

"No... It isn't true!" I screamed, my voice bouncing back at me. Galbatorix just threw back his head and laughed viciously.

"I'm afraid that it is, daughter. Your little friend Eragon is the son of Morzan!" My gaze snapped involuntarily to Murtagh, and the look in his eyes only confirmed the truth. It was then that I noticed the swordbelt hanging about his hips. The pommel of the blade protruded from under his cloak and I saw the ruby set into the pommel: Zar'roc. He must have taken the blade from Eragon on the Burning Plains. My anger flared within me.

"Are you happy?" I spat at him, watching as he flinched away from my words. "You finally got your inheritance. Are you happy!" Galbatorix chuckled lightly as he looked back and forth between us, his eyes alight with some exuberance that I couldn't quite place.

"Bravo, Tabatha," he said, clapping his hands together slowly. "It delights me to see you gained some of my temper."

"Why are you doing this?" I demanded.

"I should think it would be quite obvious," he said, sounding like he was tired of this conversation. "I want you to rule by my side, as a Rider."

"I will not rule this Empire of madness you have created," I growled defiantly. There was no way in the world I would ever be queen of his reign of terror. "I will not be queen of _this!"_ I spat the last word, throwing my arm out to the side. Much to my confusion, he began to laugh again.

"That job is not reserved for _you_ ," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, I see that Brom has not told you everything," he replied, seeming to ponder how to tell me whatever secret he was holding on to. "This is just too wonderful!" He looked over to Murtagh for appreciation of his twisted mirth, but he found none there. Murtagh just continued to stare blankly ahead.

"What didn't he tell me!" I screamed.

He laughed once more, sending shivers through my body. "He never told you that you have a brother," he whispered. My world came crashing down on me all at once.

"No. That cannot be!"

"I'm afraid that it is, Tabatha. Adelaide bore me two children before she died. I knew that your older brother would be like me when he came into manhood, so I kept him close, always watching for the slightest hint of treachery from your mother." I just stared back at him, my mouth hanging open. "What? You didn't think I knew what she was planning to do? Oh yes, I was aware of her plot long before she ever carried it out. So I kept a tight hold on your brother, so she couldn't steal him away. When you were born, I knew in an instant that you were more like your mother, but ten times more powerful. And even more powerful than your brother, as well. I wanted to train you to use your abilities to their fullest potential, but your mother kept you away from me. She stole you away, and I believed you were lost forever. I had no choice but to kill her."

"Where is he?" I asked breathlessly.

"He's right here, where he's been all along. I've kept his identity secret up until now, but it's time to reveal him to everyone as the future king of the Broddring Empire." He turned to look over his shoulder. There was a red curtain hanging behind the throne and his huge dragon, and I saw it shifting slightly as someone behind it moved. And then he stepped around the curtain and my heart stopped. I tried to tell myself that what I was seeing was a mirage; a hallucination; a cruel jape... anything but the truth. That same cruel smile that was his signature was plastered on Galbatorix's face.

When I finally found the strength to speak, my voice came out in a strangled whisper. " _Gregorio..."_


	36. Wounds Run Deep

I felt like my heart was about to burst open from my chest. How much more can I have dumped on me in one day? First Murtagh, and now Gregorio... It was all becoming too much for me to handle.

"Hello, sister," he hissed, draping his arm lazily over the dragon throne and smirking at me slightly. It was frightening to me how much he mirrored our father.

"You!" I screamed, coming forward a bit to climb the steps up to the dais. Murtagh was suddenly in front of me, holding me by the arm with an iron grip.

"Don't do this, Tabatha," he whispered desperately in my ear.

"Don't touch me!" I jerked away from him and stepped back down onto the marble floor. His grey eyes were pleading with me, but all I felt for him at this moment was scorn. "You have all betrayed me! I want nothing to do with you!" Murtagh made to say something, but then clamped his mouth shut and climbed back up to the dais, settling in front of his dragon.

"I needed someone inside the Varden to watch over you," Galbatorix said. "To strike at the opportune moment."

"So it was _you_ that attacked me under Farthen Dur?" I looked at Gregorio only to feel a mounting hatred boiling in my chest.

"Yes," he replied with a smirk. "I meant to hand you over to the Twins so both you and Morzan's son could be brought back here, but I was overrun by Urgals before I could take you to them. By the time I fought my way through, the battle was over and my opportunity was lost. I didn't realize it would be so long before I had another chance, but your glorious reveal of Murtagh provided the perfect opportunity. You never even saw me coming!" He threw back his head in laughter, and I once again wished that I had some sort of weapon to slice his neck open. How many more were going to betray me in my lifetime?

"I trusted you," I seethed. "I thought you were my friend. Is Gregorio even your real name?"

"Of course not, you stupid girl," my brother replied. The king smirked slightly, both hands folded beneath his chin. "I am Prince Léod, future king of the Broddring Empire. And you will serve me after our father is gone, just as this Rider and all others after him will." My head was pounding; I didn't know how much more of this I could take.

"I believe my daughter is tired from her long journey," Galbatorix intoned, standing from his seat. "Murtagh, escort her back to her room." I saw Murtagh stiffen slightly, but he stepped off the dais dutifully and walked past me. His dragon turned and disappeared through the archway, and my father and brother were locked in conversation. Whatever other answers I wanted to get out of them, they would have to wait.

We exited the throne room and Murtagh walked ahead of me down the hall, never once turning back to look. When we came back to the arcade around the courtyard, I sped up to get in front of him.

"I can find my own way," I growled. He stopped walking but did not attempt to stop me, so I left him there, standing helplessly staring after me.

 

* * *

 

I kept my head buried in the soft pillow, willing all of this to go away. Everything had turned upside down on me, and the only way I knew to handle it was to lock myself away. Every now and then, I would feel a slight pressure on my mind. I recognized it as Murtagh's consciousness, but I shut him out behind my iron hard barriers. There was no one in the world—besides Galbatorix and Léod—that I wanted to speak to less. What I really wanted right now was to see Eragon. But that was a folly; in all likelihood, I would never see him again.

A serving girl came to my room about midday, asking me if I wanted something to eat. I refused her, owing my lack of appetite to the knot in my stomach. I feared that if I ate anything I would just bring it back up later. She bowed meekly and then scurried out of the room, seemingly afraid. But I paid her no mind; I preferred to be alone right now.

Eventually though, I knew I needed to get out of the bed. It would do me no good to mope about. If my aim was to escape, I needed to start working on a plan. With a heavy heart and even heavier legs, I crawled out of the bed and sidled over to the window. I didn't know who could be watching, but I didn't want to take any chances. The light outside was quickly fading, and the warm orange light of dusk was bathing the city in a hazy glow. From up here, it was a beautiful sight to see, but I could not stay locked in this tower forever. Cautiously, I went over to the huge door that led into the hallway and cracked it open. The guards were still there, but they did not turn their heads at my arrival. I ventured out into the hallway but they made no move to stop me, so I hurried down the corridor and out of their sight.

It was truly a vast place, and I got turned around a couple of times, but soon found my way back down the tower to the courtyard. There were far fewer people here than there were this morning, but I liked it that way. My eyes shifted skyward and I gazed up at the wall encasing the courtyard. Armored guards patrolled the battlements, hands gripped tightly on their spears and crossbows. Clearly, I would not be escaping through this avenue. And I couldn't imagine the main gates were any less heavily guarded. If I was to get out of here, I would need help from someone on the inside. Certainly not Murtagh; my father had control of him, body and mind. And then I saw him...

As Evander came strolling around the corner I ducked behind a yew bush, scattering a couple of robins that had been residing there. Through the thick leaves, I saw Evander stop and watch the birds fly away, and then peer back at the bush, narrowing his eyes to look through the leaves. He was going to see me! What do I do? Before I had more time to fret, a man called from down the path, drawing Evander's attention away from me. He smiled and raised a hand in greeting to whoever the man was, and then continued on down the path. I breathed a sigh of relief and then cautiously made my way back onto the gravel. Then I made my way through the winding paths to the opposite side of the arcade. When I looked down the lane, I noticed an opening at the far end that led into a practice yard, and I started to make my way towards it. But as I drew closer, a figure stepped out of the shadows tohalt me in my steps.

"Galion!" I exclaimed at the sight of the pale man. He smiled broadly, but I couldn't help feeling in my gut that it was false.

"Good evening, Your Highness," he said cheerily. "You seem lost. Is there somewhere I can help you find?" It dawned on me then that he had been instructed to watch me.

Quick as lightening, I said, "Actually, yes. I was searching for the library and can't seem to find it."

He quirked his head to the side a bit, the way that a dog would. "Are the books in your room not pleasing to you, Princess?"

"They are, thank you. But there is a particular book I am looking for that was not in my chambers. If you would direct me to the library, I'm sure I could find it there," I stated firmly. If I was going to be treated like a noble, then I had better start acting like one. He smirked slightly at my show of authority, but then acquiesced, turning slightly and sweeping his arm to gesture for me to follow him.

We turned down a breezeway that connected two of the buildings that made up the castle, and then down a wide hallway to stop before huge double doors of wood painted blue. Galion pulled on the handles and then ushered me inside. All about me were rows and rows of books, flying up to the ceiling high above. Ladders adorned the shelves, set into tracks so they could be easily moved, and there was a wide gallery littered with sofas and chairs and tables up above. A huge golden chandelier hung from the wooden ceiling, casting a warm light on the whole room. And before us, seated behind a dark oak desk, was a man of middle age, with graying brown hair and a salt and pepper mustache. He smiled at our arrival as Galion walked over to him.

"Good evening, Master Tobias," he said, bowing slightly at the waist. The librarian—for that was the only thing I could think this man was—inclined his head and then looked over to me. "May I present her Royal Highness, the Princess Tabatha. She has only just returned to us from Kuasta, and is in search of a certain volume. Perhaps you could assist her?"

"Of course!" he exclaimed, bounding up from his plush, high-backed chair to come around where we were standing. He bowed deeply and took hold of my hand, kissing it lightly. "Your Highness, what an honor it is to finally meet you. When your lord father sent you away at such a tender age, we were most heartbroken. And what a tragedy, to hear of your mother's passing." What in the world was he talking about? I hesitated slightly, but knew it would do no good to ask questions.

"Thank you, for your condolences," I said timidly, hoping this answer would not give away my ignorance. He straightened up and smiled at me warmly, then turned to Galion and thanked him before the pale man turned and left. Once he was gone, I felt like I was no longer being watched, but not that I was completely safe. "Well, Your Highness, what can I help you find today?"

I panicked for a moment because I hadn't thought that far ahead, but quickly got my wits about me. "Could you direct me to the history section? I don't exactly remember the title of the volume I seek, but I'm sure I'll know it when I see it."

"May I ask what the subject was? Perhaps I can narrow it down?" This man's helpfulness was beginning to irritate.

"Something about the kings of old and their family histories," I replied dismissively, hoping the answer was vague enough to throw him off.

"That could be any number of tomes, Your Highness," he laughed as we ascended the stairs to the upper gallery. "Of course, there's _A History of Alagaesia, The Kings of the Second Age, Rulers and Ancestors, Ancients of the North_... Do any of those sound familiar to you?"

I gave him a slight chuckle. "Honestly, I can't remember." We turned the corner to a small causeway and then into a section of several bookshelves, crammed close together. Behind the shelves was a small sitting area next to an empty hearth.

"This is the history section, Your Highness," Master Tobias said amiably, stopping at the very edge of the stacks. "I shall leave you to it then?"

"Thank you very much for your help, Master Tobias. I shall call on you if I require further assistance." He smiled and then bowed once more before leaving me alone amidst the shelves. Once he was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief and took in my surroundings. There certainly was no escape route here, but it would be a nice place to come for a respite if I needed one. I went over to the sitting area and peered out the small window down into the practice yard, watching as the men sparred or practiced their archery. I longed to be down there among them, if only to prepare for the day when I would kill my father. At this point, that was all I wanted to do.

Behind me, I heard the sudden shift of the floor and the creaking of the boards against one another. I whirled around as I sensed the presence of another, and came face to face with a nightmare. My breath caught in my throat, and I couldn't think of what to say.

"Tabby..." Murtagh breathed, staring at me intently. Whatever he'd thought to say afterwards, he clearly decided against it.

"I don't want to talk to you," I whispered, losing whatever resolve I had before. "Please... just go..." I turned away from him, leaning against the window sill and squeezing my eyes shut. I heard him walk closer to me, the wooden floor creaking beneath his weight.

"Listen to me," he said firmly. "Just let me explain what has happened." He placed a hand around my arm but I whirled around to break free of his grasp.

"I won't listen, whatever it is. I won't be poisoned by your lies." He looked hurt, but I didn't care. I wanted him to feel the betrayal I had experienced upon learning he was still alive.

"They aren't lies, Tabatha. Just let me explain!"

"Save your breath," I spat. "Unless you would tell me why you betrayed me to my father, I don't want to hear it."

"I never betrayed you to him!" he said, raising his voice to an alarming level. "He forced me to join him when Thorn hatched for me and he learned our true names. And I didn't attack you out there on the battlefield. That was your brother. Every step of the way, I tried to resist Galbatorix, and you were the only thing to give me the strength to do it. Tabatha... you saved me..."

"Leave me be," I snapped, turning my face away. The sight of him was making the knot in my gut grow tighter.

He only stepped closer, so that our bodies were nearly touching. "What should I have done? What would you ask of me?"

"I want to be free of you," I whispered, "the way that you are so obviously free of me."

"How can you say that!"

"You betrayed me! Anyone who claims to love another would never do that." His brow furrowed in anger, and I was afraid for a moment that he would strike me.

"If anyone is a traitor here, it's _you_ , Tabatha!"

"What?" I asked incredulously, my mouth hanging agape at his sudden accusation.

"How long did you wait before running off to Eragon?" he seethed. "How long before you forgot me? Did you go to him in the same hour, or wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?"

I slapped him then across the face, losing all sense in my rage. "I died that day!" I screamed. When he turned back to look at me, a swollen red mark upon his cheek, I held up my wrist so he could see it. And as he saw what was there, I watched his demeanor change completely. There, wrapped about my wrist, was the braided string bracelet he'd given me so long ago. It was a little more frayed and worn than it had been before, but it was still the same. "I told you that day I would never take it off, and I never have. I wear this to remind myself of the old Murtagh; the one that I loved and lost. But he's gone now, and only a monster stands before me."

Without waiting for a reply, I pushed past his broad shoulder and ran out of the library, not even caring when Master Tobias asked me what was wrong. And as I burst through the doors, Galion was waiting patiently in the hall, that same unnerving smile plastered on his features.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" he asked.

I wiped a single tear away as it slid down my cheek. "No, I did not. It seems the king's collection is not as vast as I had thought."

"A pity," he replied shortly. "Your father has summoned you. Come." I followed wordlessly as we traversed the corridors again, passing by servants and nobles alike. But this time, instead of going to the throne room, we delved deeper into the castle, going down flight after flight of stairs until we reached an area that was full of vaults. The circular doors were embedded deep into the walls, and each was guarded by two Imperial soldiers. At the end of the dank hallway, a much larger door was guarded by ten men, each of them as tall as steeples and thickly muscled. In front of them stood my father.

"Welcome, daughter," he said, smiling slightly. It disgusted me to be so close to him, but I knew I had no choice. When I didn't reply, he turned and the guards parted. With a wave of his hand and a few muttered words, the circular stone door slowly groaned open. Inside it was dimly lit, and I couldn't make out what was there. My father went inside the vault and Galion and I followed behind. The air inside was thick and close, nearly suffocating me. But Galbatorix didn't seem to be affected. The room itself was circular, but not very big. Sconces lined the walls, casting a dim orange light over everything, and in the middle of the room were three pedestals. A white light shone down from above, illuminating the dark marble. The two pedestals on the side were empty, but the one in the middle held something that stole my breath away. It looked very much like Saphira's egg, but instead of brilliant sapphire, it was a dark emerald green. The light of the torches shone off its polished shell, highlighting the gold veins that traversed its surface. So this was it... The last dragon egg in existence...

"It's so beautiful," I whispered, stopping just short of the pedestal. Galbatorix smiled slightly and then peered over at me.

"Touch it," he said simply. My heart dropped into my stomach. The air around me began to buzz strangely, and my eyes went wide. Something strange was going on here. My head started to feel heavy, and my eyes were fluttering open and closed. Seemingly against my will, my feet started moving forward and I reached out my hand. I wanted to scream, but found that my voice had been stolen from me. And before I knew what was happening, my hand was caressing the smooth shell of the egg.

"Stop it!" I yelled, finally finding my voice. I didn't want this! I coulnd't! I can't serve him! My hand stayed stuck there for another moment before I finally pulled away. My father watched me intently, scrutinizing my face as I began to cry. Meanwhile, my anger was welling up inside me, beginning to take form in my powers. I wanted to scream and hit something and destroy. And before I knew what was happening, the fire in the sconces flared up around the room, shooting towards me in jets of flame and snaking around my hands and wrists. I felt the power of the flames coursing through my body, and I shot them toward my father, bathing him in light and heat. When the flames subsided, I saw that he was unharmed, protected by his wards, but it felt good to show him what I could do. That I would not be so easily cowed...

"Wonderful!" he suddenly exclaimed, a wide smile upon his face. "Power over the elements... how intriguing. I never saw that from your mother. Now we shall have to wait and see what else you can do."

"I will never join you," I seethed.

"You will find, daughter, that you do not have a choice in the matter." My eyes blazed in anger, but he just continued to smile. "In one week's time, I am hosting a masque ball, in which you will make your debut to society, as will your brother. I expect you to be on your best behavior. Murtagh will be there, so you will socialize with him as well. Is that understood?"

"I refuse," I said defiantly, recalling the unpleasant memory of our meeting in the library.

"It amuses me to see that you think you have any choice in what you do here," he laughed. "Be pleasant with the Rider, or suffer the consequences. It's up to you, really." He turned away, walking towards the door before throwing another comment over his shoulder. "Oh, and stop dressing like a peasant. You are a princess now. It's time you started acting like one." Then he strode out of the vault, leaving me alone with Galion to wonder at what had just happened.

 

* * *

 

Léod's POV

Father joined me in his study, bursting through the door with a triumphant smile upon his face. Jealousy blazed within me, but I didn't let it show on my face. Even if the green egg had not hatched for me, that wasn't to say it would hatch for my sister.

"How did it go?" I asked disinterestedly, flipping through a small volume off of his shelves.

"Wonderfully!" he exclaimed. "Your sister is extremely powerful. I am confident the egg will hatch for her." My chest tightened but I did not respond.

"And our other plan?"

"She is obviously upset with Murtagh."

"I overheard an argument they had in the library," I continued, dishing out the valuable piece of information I'd been keeping to myself all day. "The Rider still believes she was involved romantically with Eragon, just as I told him. It seems like he hates her for it. And she believes Murtagh betrayed her to you. The pieces are falling into place perfectly."

"The success of this plan depends upon keeping them separated, Léod. We must drive another wedge further between them." He plopped down behind the desk, looking deep in thought.

I pondered this for a moment, twisting my mouth slightly. "I think I know just how to do that," I seethed, letting a wicked smirk spread across my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prince's name is pronounced LAY-ahd


	37. Fogetting Him

My head was spinning as I realized that the ball was tomorrow night. In one day's time, I would be revealed to the world as daughter to the king, and my life would never be the same. Wherever I went, I would be treated with either reverence or hate. At least right now I had some anonymity, but not for long. It wouldn't take very much time for word of the princess with violet-colored eyes to spread all over the bloody kingdom.

"Ouch!" I protested indignantly, jumping away from the pin that had just been stuck in my hip. The old woman—Gerta was her name, I think—stared up at me pointedly.

"Well then Highness, stand still," she replied in a gruff voice, going right back to her work. She pricked me a few more times, but I thought better than to complain again. The fabric she was hemming pulled tighter around my waist, showing its curve in stark relief, and I couldn't help but admire the beauty of the gown. When she was finally done, I inspected myself further. The material was a dark green satin with a full skirt and long, flowing sleeves. The bodice was overlaid with gold embroidery, and the tops of the sleeves came to a slight point right at my shoulders. It was somewhat scandalous to my eyes, the way that the sleeves were pulled down over the shoulders and caused the neckline to expose my bosom, but I supposed Galbatorix wanted me to look as beautiful as possible. If his aim was to control me, it only made sense that the easiest way to do that would be to marry me off to one of his staunchest supporters.

"It's beautiful," I said quietly, a twinge of sadness apparent in my voice.

"Now for the finishing touch," the old woman said, pushing up off her creaking knees to walk over to the wardrobe. From one of the drawers, she brought out a glimmering mask of swirling silver with diamonds going down the bridge of the nose, ending in a teardrop. At the sides were silver satin ties and more diamonds along the lower edge. It stole my breath away as Gerta handed the mask over to me. "It belonged to your mother, you know." My head snapped up to look at her.

"How do you know about my mother?" I asked. I knew that Galbatorix had kept her hidden, so it was surprising to me that this woman knew who she was.

"I was her lady's maid," Gerta replied fondly. "I helped to deliver you, child. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. Just as you are." I gave her a sad smile and then gingerly handed back the mask for her to replace it within the wardrobe. She helped me out of the gown so she could alter it for tomorrow night, and then I was left alone once more. I put on a pink silk robe that I'd found in the wardrobe a few days ago, and then settled in next to the fireplace. Although it was getting close to summer here, the nights were chilly. The crackling of the flames was comforting to me, but there was still a pressure mounting at the back of my head. I couldn't tell if it was Murtagh trying to talk to me again, or perhaps the extreme nervousness that was threatening to overwhelm me.

 

* * *

 

Butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I stood shaking behind the red velvet curtain. It was concealing both Léod and I for the time being, until our father deemed it the perfect time to reveal us. I could hear people milling about in the ballroom, chatting and laughing with one another in all their finery. The nobles had been arriving at the palace for the last hour, but I'd only come behind the curtain a few minutes ago. Léod was standing off to my left, brooding to himself silently underneath his ornate gold mask. I glanced over at him hatefully every few moments, but he never paid me any mind and I had resolved myself to ignore him for the rest of the evening. My biggest fear, however, was having to dance and be social with that bastard of a traitor, Murtagh. I could see Thorn's massive tail flicking the curtain impatiently from the other side. He and his Rider stood dutifully behind their king, but my father's own dragon was missing. He was far too large to fit in the ballroom.

Slowly, I let out the breath I realized I'd been holding in. My hands were trembling and I tried to calm them, but it was no good. I adjusted my mask where it was tied beneath the updo Gerta had so kindly helped me with, and then straightened my back. Tonight, I would become a princess; there was no going back. It took me a moment to realize the room had suddenly gone silent. Galbatorix must have called all their attentions.

"I have a secret." His velvety and unsettling voice resounded through the large chamber, bouncing back in echoes. "Only a select few were aware of it, but now I think it is time to let the truth reveal itself." With a flourish of his capelet, Léod brushed the curtain aside to a chorus of gasps from the waiting crowd. He walked across the dais to stand beside our father and I felt my heart beating quicker. "May I present to you my son, Prince Léod. The future king of Alagaesia!" The crowd erupted in cheers and claps, filling the ballroom with a thousand voices. It sickened me.

"You must all be wondering about my wife," Galbatorix continued. "She was not known to many of you, but the few who did know her will be grieved to learn that she passed of an illness only a few months ago. I am heartbroken at her loss, but there is a light that still shines. You see, many years ago, Adelaide not only bore me a son, but she also gave birth to a beautiful daughter. The child has been away in the south with her studies, but after her mother's death I insisted she return home, where she belongs. Being a dutiful daughter, she hastened back to my side and is finally home. I present to you, Her Royal Highness, Princess Tabatha." That was my cue...

As gracefully as I could, I swept around the curtain, swishing my skirts and keeping my shoulders straight back. Another chorus of cheers and claps went up from the crowd and I saw all of their eyes trained on me. It was disconcerting to see them all staring at me, but I supposed I had better get used to it. I looked to my left and saw my father smiling brightly and his eyes alight with false happiness behind the black mask he wore. Of course the mask was in the shape of a snarling dragon. He really did play the part of the proud father quite well. Léod was sitting in a smaller throne to the right of the king's, and there was another to the left that sat empty, only a small green cushion resting upon the seat. I knew this one was reserved for me. Murtagh stood behind that throne, Thorn looming up behind him in all his ruby-colored glory. Slowly, I walked across the dais and sat upon the green cushion, keeping my back off the chair and staring out at the crowd.

"Thank you all," Galbatorix continued with a flourish of his hand, "for joining us on this happy occasion. Let the festivities begin!" There was a small orchestra in the upper gallery across from us, and the strings began to sing in their melodious tones, soaring to notes that I hadn't even imagined possible before. Couples started forming out of the mass of people while others retreated to the edges of the rooms, rejoining the groups they'd been chatting with before. There were dresses of all colors and styles, and my head was beginning to hurt from looking at all of them. It seemed the women of the court preferred outlandish styles and bright hues on their gowns. Those dancing in the center of the room twirled about each other as the waltz quickened, the women's skirts swishing against each other to make a sound like the lapping of ocean waves against the shore.

My father suddenly spoke to my right. "It's the opening waltz, Tabatha," he whispered through gritted teeth. "You must dance with Murtagh." I stiffened involuntarily at the thought of having to be sociable with him, but I soon regained my royal countenance.

Looking over at my father with an expression as cold as ice, I said, "Of course, Father. Your wish is my command." Murtagh came around to stand in front of me, having received his orders as well. He bowed deeply and offered me his hand.

"My lady," he said nobly, though his voice was quiet, "may I have the honor of the first dance?" I stood from my seat, making sure to keep my back straight and stared at him with cold indifference.

"You may," I replied, taking hold of his offered hand. He held my hand aloft as he led me onto the dance floor and then turned to take hold of my waist. We joined the other dancing couples in the waltz, taking care to not run into anyone. He was dressed in a black doublet that was threaded with red filament; the sleeves were studded with little pyramids of iron, and the front was covered in black velvet filigree of vinework. About his neck was a collar of scarlet red underneath the raised black collar of the doublet. His mask was, unsurprisingly, in the shape of a dragon's face, ruby red just like Thorn. Although it pained me to admit it, he looked extremely handsome in his raiment. I willed the thoughts away and focused on my footwork, which I'd been working on with an instructor the king had provided. As for Murtagh, it was obvious he'd suffered through years of dancing lessons, for he swept me around the dance floor with surprising grace. I suddenly had a flash back to when I danced with Miles in Surda, when all I'd wished was to be dancing with Murtagh. My wishes certainly had changed...

"I know you probably never want to talk to me again—"

"You would be correct in that assumption," I snapped, cutting him off.

His mouth straightened into a thin line as he held his tongue and his temper. " _But,_ " he continued, "there are some things I would like to explain to you."

"I don't want to hear what you have to say."

"Please, Tabatha," he implored desperately, real emotion and pain coloring his voice. "I beg of you. Do not scorn me for what you think I have done. Let me tell you what happened—"

"Murtagh, stop." He stared at me pointedly with those wolfish eyes I used to love, but he remained silent. "We are not the people we once were. We have been thrust into a game of lies and deceit, and now we must play our parts." His hand tightened around my waist, but he said nothing more on the matter. Aside from the anger I had in my heart towards him, it would be better for both of us if we just stayed away from each other. The waltz finally ended in a crescendo of notes and everyone clapped for the orchestra. I stepped away from Murtagh, trying to hide my relief and clapped along with them. But then I saw the other men making their way towards me. It seemed the torture was nowhere near over tonight.

Murtagh stepped aside and rejoined the king upon the dais while I was swept away by a man whose name I never caught. He was kind and attentive enough, but he was twice my age, if not more. I was just glad the dance was a short one. After he left me, I noticed the other men milling about, and then saw one man in particular pushing through the crowd. He was dressed in a militaristic doublet the color of fresh cream with silver buttons and pointed shoulders. And he wore a white mask that was painted to look like cracked porcelain, with silver filigree and a figure of a man's face between two birds at the top. Through the holes cut out for the eyes, I saw his blue irises shining intently at the sight of me.

"May I have the next dance, Your Highness?" he asked, taking my hand and lightly kissing the top of it. My body shivered involuntarily.

"You may," I replied breathlessly. I had almost forgotten how Evander had taken my breath away the first night we met. During my time here, I'd been trying to avoid Evander, but now I found that I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

We fell in with the other couples for the rondo, a slow dance that required the partners to stand very close to one another. He smiled down at me as we moved together, our chests nearly touching. "I must say, Your Highness, you dance remarkably well," he complimented. I felt a blush coming into my cheeks.

"Well..." I stumbled, "much of my studying revolved around the proper etiquette of a lady. And I had a wonderful dancing master." I looked up at him demurely from under my mask.

"Yes, of course," he smirked. "How could I forget that the best dancing masters are found in the lower portion of the Spine? Especially amidst all that good lumber…" I could tell that he was trying to laugh, but all I wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide forever.

"I, uh—"

"You thought I didn't realize it was you the moment you stepped around that curtain?" he whispered in my ear, pulling me closer to him. "Especially since your father called you by name? I could not have forgotten your face after our last meeting." I could tell I was blushing again and silently cursed my stupid tendencies.

"I'm sorry," I breathed quietly. What else could I say?

"It's all right. I understand why you had to lie to me." He glanced around us surreptitiously before jerking his head to the side. "Come on; let's go somewhere a bit more private so we can talk." I just nodded as he led me off the dance floor. When I glanced over my shoulder, I saw Murtagh watching us like a hawk while my father and brother were steeped in conversation. We hurried out onto the balcony off the ballroom that overlooked the entire city. It was a clear and warm night, and I breathed in the fragrant air. This balcony must have been situated right over the gardens. We leaned against the railing and just surveyed the beautiful night in silence for a moment.

Then I turned and saw him staring at me, a small smile upon his face. "I'm sorry," I said again, laughing a bit this time.

"It's all right, Tabatha—" He caught himself quickly. "Excuse me, Your Highness." I wanted very badly to punch him right on the arm, but figured that wouldn't be very ladylike. So I settled for a slap on the back of his hand instead.

"Tabatha will do," I admonished him playfully.

"Very well, Lady Tabatha." He smirked a bit because he knew it annoyed me, but I let it slide. "I understand why you lied to me in the first place. You would have been insane to reveal your true identity in that room where we first met. They would have skinned you alive. And for all you knew, I would have as well. That's absurd, of course, but you couldn't have known any better."

"I take it you're not terribly fond of the king?" I asked, knowing we were safe on this deserted balcony. The music floated across the night air from the bustling ballroom, but all I could see was him. The air seemed to be shimmering around me with light.

"Not in the least, no," he replied. "He's oppressive and cruel, not to mention a liar. It's obvious you weren't away studying for the past twelve years. Else why would you have been in Surda with the Varden?"

"Well, I wasn't—"

"You don't have to lie to me, Tabatha," he cut me off, laughing. "My family has been supporting them secretly for years. I assure you, your secret is safe with me."

"I wish I would have known that when we first met, that way I could have told you who I was." I took a step closer to him. "I didn't like having to lie to you."

"Well, I wouldn't have told you because I thought you were one of those nobles that were loyal to the king. I couldn't have been sure of your loyalties until I got you alone, which never happened, of course. So now is my chance to find out."

"I think you already know that answer," I quipped back, turning my shoulder slightly away from him.

"Still... I would like to hear it." He came closer to me and pulled off his beautiful mask, revealing his ruggedly handsome face. Then he put a hand on my bare shoulder and turned me back towards him, so I had no choice but to look him in the eye.

Taking a deep breath, I said, "I hate my father, for killing my mother and forcing me to come here. He is an evil man, as is my brother. I am nothing like them." My voice had risen slightly in anger and I could feel the heat coming to my cheeks. Hopefully, I wasn't blushing too badly.

He nodded slightly and then gave me a small smile, relaxing my mood a bit. "Good," he whispered, "now that's settled, we can work on a way to get you out of this hellacious place." My heart jumped a bit at his words.

"You'll help me?"

He nodded. "Even though I've never spoken to your father, it's not hard to guess what he wants to do with you. I know about the egg—"

"How?"

"I told you," he laughed quietly, "my family has been supporting the Varden for years. Who do you think told them about the tunnel into the castle? Without my father, they might never have stolen the blue egg in the first place." From this new revelation, I knew that I would be able to trust him. Something in his eyes assured me that he would not betray me.

"Very well," I said quietly, giving him a small smile. "Then we'll figure it out together." He inclined his head slightly, and then stared up at me with those blue eyes. He leaned forward a bit and brought a hand up to my cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. Then his face came even closer. "What are you doing?" I asked.

"What I've wanted to do since the night we met, but never got a chance to." Then his lips brushed softly against mine and I felt the butterflies in my stomach fluttering around. But the moment didn't last long.

An agitated cough came from behind us and we split apart quickly. I turned to see Murtagh standing straight as a board, hands clasped behind his back and staring intently. My heart lurched forward in my chest, but there was no time for any explanation. After all, why did I even owe him one? There was nothing between us. Why shouldn't I move on and be happy with someone else?

"Your Highness," he said tersely, bowing stiffly at the waist, "your father requests that you rejoin the party." I nodded firmly and looked back at Evander apologetically. When I looked back to the glass double doors, Murtagh was gone, the only sign he'd ever been there the curtains swishing in his wake.


	38. Ulterior Motives

Inevitably, I was unable to stay away from Evander. The rational portion of my brain was telling me that I shouldn't get involved with someone here when my intentions were to leave, but the other part of my brain... well, it was telling me something completely different. We met in secret, to avoid the prying eyes of my father's spies, but the time never seemed to be enough. He hadn't kissed me again since that night on the balcony, but I seemed to always feel Murtagh's eyes on me whenever I was near him. My father made the four of us—Murtagh, Léod, himself and me—dine together every night, and he spoke of all his grand plans to reestablish the order of the Riders and unite Alagaesia under a banner of peace. It didn't take me long to grow tired of his lies. Murtagh always just sat there in silence, staring at me. I wondered if he was constantly remembering seeing me kiss another man.

It was one morning, as I was studiously trying to avoid Murtagh for the thousandth time, that I stole away into the library. It had been a month since I'd been brought to Uru'baen, but in that short time Master Tobias and I had become well acquainted with each other. He waved to me amiably from behind his desk as I walked in, heading straight up the stairs to the gallery. By now, I knew my way well enough around the library to not require his help anymore. I headed for the reading corner behind the history section. When I rounded the corner of the shelves, I saw him there, sitting with his legs crossed and flipping lazily through the pages of a blue-bound book. Evander lifted his eyes at my arrival and I had to laugh.

"How do you always know when and where I'll be someplace?" I asked, stopping in front of him with my hands placed firmly upon my hips.

"Call it intuition," he responded with a smirk, rising from the chair and coming over to me.

"Others would call it stalking."

"I prefer to call it _'being attentive'_." I had to laugh at that, but he just continued to smirk down at me. And before I knew what was happening, he was leaning forward and our lips were touching. He wrapped his arm about my waist and pulled me closer as my arms snaked around his neck. The room seemed to be spinning around me, but right now I didn't really care. When we finally pulled away, I could feel a wide smile upon my face.

"You didn't miss me, did you?" I teased. He laughed and led me over to the two plush chairs, sitting in the one across from me.

"It feels as though it's been ages since we were alone together, when I know it's only been a week. Why must we be so secretive?"

"You should know better than I," I chided softly. "It might raise suspicions if we are seen together. The king keeps a watchful eye on me, and I wouldn't want you to fall under suspicion that you're helping me to escape. It's better this way."

"It may be better, but that doesn't mean I have to like it." I just gave him a sad smile to let him know I agreed, but there was nothing to be done for it.

"Have you learned anything that may be useful in my escape?" I asked, trying to shift the subject.

"The tunnel that was used by Helfring to steal Saphira's egg has long since been sealed, but I'm sure there are others that even the king doesn't know about. This citadel was added onto the castle that was already here. The original one was built by the elves, and they're renowned for their secrets. We'll find a way." Evander placed his hand on top of mine in a reassuring gesture, but I felt a cold pit forming in my stomach. The situation was looking bleaker. I was on constant watch when I was outside of my room, and the two soldiers that guarded the doors were cycled out regularly, with no breaks between the shifts. After dinner, I wasn't allowed outside of my room, or else Galion was there to escort me wherever I went. If I was to get out of here alive, we would need a very good plan.

"I surely hope so," I whispered morosely. It irked me that I had to rely on someone else to help me out of here, but I really had no choice. With the king's watchdogs always on the lookout, I never truly was alone here. Soon after that, we left the library and Evander was escorting me back to my room to prepare for dinner. When we rounded the corner, I saw the two guards standing there straight-backed, as usual. But there was also the telltale sign that my father wanted to speak to me: Murtagh.

"The king would like to see you, Your Highness," he said stoically, inclining his head in my direction and shooting an icy glare at Evander. The two men stared at each other silently for a moment before I stepped between them.

"Very well," I said. Evander relaxed a bit but Murtagh stepped briskly past me, still shooting daggers with his eyes as he led me to the place I affectionately called Hell.

 

* * *

 

Galbatorix's POV

"I believe they are falling into our trap perfectly," Léod said, lounging in one of the chairs of my study with his legs dangling over one of the arms. The boy was impetuous, but that didn't bother me. As long as he still believed he would take the throne one day, I could keep him under my control. What a pity he had no idea the numerous Eldunari I had under my iron grip would allow me to live for centuries more. The boy would be dead and gone for hundreds of years by the time I finally died, if I even would. Rumor has it that if one finds the Name, they can live forever. And I'm getting closer every day...

"Yes, it would seem so, wouldn't it?" I replied, shuffling a few papers around on my desk. "I must say, your idea to thrust the young Count upon your sister was quite ingenious. If Murtagh hated her before when he believed she was involved with the other Rider, he'll hate her even more so when he sees her with the Count." Léod grunted in response, but said nothing more. All the better in my opinion. His useless prattling grew tiresome very quickly.

The door opened quickly and she strolled into the chamber, looking every bit as lovely as her mother once did. "What is it you want this time?" she snapped. She certainly was a bold little thing to act so defiantly towards me, but I knew her time would come. "Not another ball, I hope?"

"No need to worry your pretty head about that," Léod barked.

"No one asked you."

"Don't fight, children. Please." Tabatha shifted her unsettling, violet eyes to gaze down at me hatefully.

"Please try not to pretend like you actually view us as your children, and not just some pawns for you to use in your twisted game!" she yelled. No matter, I had faced far worse than her ire in my long lifetime.

"Please sit down, Tabatha." I gestured to the chair opposite my desk, and she begrudgingly took a seat. Léod was still scanning the pages of his book halfheartedly. "I only wish to discuss your future here," I continued.

She scoffed sharply. "I have no intention of staying here that long." I couldn't help but smirk at her fiery spirit. It's the same spirit that initially drew me to her mother...

"I'm sure," I replied condescendingly. "Nonetheless, you could have a future here if you wished it."

"What do you mean?" She eyed me cautiously for a moment.

"There was a young man at the ball; a Count Evander I believe? You seemed quite taken with each other." My delight welled up inside me as I saw her stiffen and go wide-eyed at the mention of the boy.

"What of him?" she asked, trying to mask her concern under a facade of indifference.

"I merely observed that you seemed enamored with him." It took everything within me not to laugh at the absurdity of it. "If you wanted, I could broker a marriage for you two." She shook her head slightly, most likely hoping that I wouldn't notice. But I did.

"Why would you do that?" Her voice was no more than a whisper.

"I hope you will come to find that I do wish for your happiness, Tabatha." The lies rolled easily off my tongue, as they always had. "Although I wish you to serve me, I would rather you come to me willingly. I wish to show you that I only want peace for Alagaesia, and all of its people. Those rebels of the Varden are the ones stirring up trouble, not me. That is why I wish to reestablish the Riders; so we can live together in peace under the rule of law."

"You killed the Riders," she breathed.

"A corrupt order. The old fools who lead them wished to oppress the people and keep all the power to themselves," I explained. "I saved the people of Alagaesia, Tabatha. If I hadn't, we would all be held under their thumbs still. Is that what you want?"

"No," she replied warily.

"Then don't you see? It was the only way. Sometimes blood must be spilt for the peace of the realm. Killing the old order was a means to an end; a better end, for all of us." She seemed to be pondering my words, but I couldn't be sure. Without getting inside her head, I couldn't gauge her thoughts. And if I wanted a willing servant besides that useless son of mine, I couldn't delve inside her mind. When she hesitated, I continued, "Just promise me you'll think about what I have said? I hope you will come to see that I only did what I had to for the good of the people."

She stared at me intently for a moment. "And what of the green egg?"

"Nothing, as of yet. But these things can take time," I explained. "My spell casters are keeping a close eye on it, but I would like you to spend some time in its presence. If the dragon hatchling inside gets to know your mind better, perhaps it will prompt him to hatch."

"It's a male, then?"

"Yes," I said, false sadness in my voice. "It would seem your friend's dragon, Saphira, is the last female dragon in existence. Another reason why it is so important for you to see I mean no harm. You must help me to win Eragon over. In all this time, it has never been my intention to kill them, but to bring them here to safety. Without Saphira, we have no hope of reestablishing the Riders."

Her mouth twisted in thought for a moment. "I..." she hesitated. "I will think on what you have said."

"Good!" I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. "Then you are free to go." She stood slowly and then exited the room. I could feel Murtagh's thoughts as she walked away, and they disgusted me. Just one more reason to let her be with that Count; I wouldn't have to know his every thought and desire anymore if Murtagh hated her.

 

* * *

 

Tabatha's POV

When Murtagh escorted me back to my room, I thanked him icily before he bowed and walked away. The door shut with a click of the latch, and then I felt the silence weighing down on me. _What just happened?_ I'd thought my father's voice was unsettling before, but when he'd spoken to me in his study... I could actually feel his words convincing me. Was that a spell? Or was I actually coming to see just what he was talking about? As I sat on the edge of my bed, I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. I needed to keep my wits about me while I was here, or else Galbatorix would ensnare me in whatever trap he was laying. But if there was one good thing to come out of this, Evander and I could be affectionate in public without having to worry about my father. It seemed we hadn't been as careful as I'd thought.

The sun was just dipping below the horizon, setting the sky aflame with bright oranges and dusky pinks, when I heard a strange scraping on my wall. Getting up to investigate, I peered out the large window to the sprawling city below. I didn't notice anything out of the normal, so I just plopped myself down in my comfy chair and opened to the earmarked page of the book I'd been reading the night before. A few moments later, a sharp tapping came from the window. I looked up only to be startled out of my chair by the sight of Evander's face behind the pane of glass.

I scrambled to open the window as he ducked down to avoid being hit, and then exclaimed, "What are you doing? You're going to get yourself killed!"

"I had to see you," he said, hoisting himself up into the window sill and over to safety. He stood for a moment catching his breath from his harrowing experience. "But I didn't want Galbatorix's spies to see _me_." He looked around the room then, taking in everything. "Well, this is nice. A little outdated, but nice nonetheless." I slapped him playfully and then we both took a seat on the chaise that stood at the foot of my bed.

"I'm glad you're here," I said. "I have to tell you something."

"What is it?"

I hesitated for a split second. "I spoke to my father..."

"I know," he said softly, leaning close to me and planting gentle kisses up the side of my neck. The gesture sent shivers up my spine. "What did he want?" I put a hand on his cheek and angled his head, forcing him to look at me.

"It seems he knows about you and me."

"How?"

"I don't know," I continued. "I thought we had been so careful, but apparently his spies are very talented. It's no matter though; he's given us his blessing, more or less. He even offered to broker our marriage." Evander's eyes went wide at that.

"Really?"

"Yes, but I don't think it's a good idea." He clamped his mouth shut tightly, and I could tell he was hurt. "Not for that reason. I like you very much, Evander. But my ultimate goal is to escape this place. If we were married, it would be nearly impossible."

"Not necessarily," Evander argued. "We could take holidays at my father's estate in Belatona. It would not be difficult to claim that we needed a break from the city. And if there were children..."

"Slow down a bit, Evander," I said. "My aim is to kill my father, for all of the wrongs he has done to me and Alagaesia, not just escape his notice. I must be free of him, and I can't be if I'm married to a noble in his court." Evander's face fell slightly, but I could tell he had heard the truth in my words.

"Very well," he conceded quietly. "Whatever his ulterior motives are, we must beat him at his own game. We will court for the time being, all the while searching for a way for you to escape when he thinks we're together. It's the only way."

"Agreed," I said firmly.

"But if we are going to pretend to court, with the aim of marriage, it must be convincing." He smiled wolfishly and then put a hand behind my neck, pulling my lips to his own. And when I kissed him, I had not a single thought of Murtagh.


	39. A Change of Heart

Murtagh's POV

A pang of jealousy and hurt coursed through my veins and spread through my chest as I watched them strolling through the garden, hand-in-hand. Why is she doing this? Why won't she let me explain what happened? Does she truly think I would have betrayed her like that, just for the power? I thought that I had made it clear to her I never wanted to be anything like my father, but I guess that I didn't. The sight of her with that bastard just infuriated me; I don't know why I'm doing this to myself. Perhaps if I could catch her alone though, I might be able to convince her to listen to me. She's been here for two months and we still haven't had any alone time other than the meeting in the library. After that day, she's taken every care to avoid me. But I still loved her...

"Admiring the flowers, are we?" a voice said from behind me, snapping me back to reality from my brooding thoughts. As I turned, I came face to face with my most hated of enemies: Léod. He wore a smirk upon his face and his arms were crossed over his chest in a smug fashion. Léod leaned up against the slim trunk of a tree, his eyes glittering darkly as he reveled in my pain.

"Just that, actually," I replied coolly, trying not to let him see that I was seething with anger. "They are exceedingly lovely this time of year."

"I'll say..." I saw him lean forward to glance over my shoulder, where I knew Tabatha was standing.

"Is there something you needed, Your Highness?" I asked tersely. It was maddening to have to be respectful to this maggotous wretch, but it was something I was forced to do. I felt Thorn probing at the back of my mind, trying to calm me.

"Just checking in on you, at my father's request, that's all," he replied, clasping his hands behind his back. Slowly, he began to pace the little stretch of path where we were standing, hidden from the view of the garden's other occupants.

"You needn't worry, Your Highness. I'm doing quite well."

"Even with your little lover so engaged in another man's arms?" he shot back, one eyebrow cocked in a mockingly amused sort of way. I glanced furtively over my shoulder and saw that Tabatha and the Count had escaped the heat of the day beneath the shade of a rowan tree, and they were...

It took everything I had within me not to run over and pummel the little whelp into the ground. "I'm beginning to think you enjoy torturing me," I mocked under my breath.

"It's what I live for," he retorted quickly, laughing at my pain. With that, he walked away to leave me simmering with my rage a little more. I returned to my place behind the rose bushes to watch the two lovers as they left the garden, locked in whispered conversation. It should have been me. I should be the one on her arm right now, not him. The gods seemed to enjoy watching me suffer. When they were out of my sight, I turned sharply and stormed back toward my tower, longing for the touch of one of them, and hoping for the death of the other.

 

* * *

 

Tabatha's POV

I felt his eyes following us the entire time we were in the garden, lurking behind every shady bush and tree. This was absolutely insufferable. "Come on," I whispered in Evander's ear, "let's go somewhere a little more private." A smirk slowly spread across his face and he kissed me quickly on the neck before taking my hand to lead me out of the garden.

Even as we left, I felt him watching. I wanted to say something to him. Wanted to tell him that there was nothing between us anymore; longed to tell him that I never wanted to speak to him again; yearned to tell him to stop following us. But I never did. I was afraid that if I spoke to him again, all of my resolve would fail and I'd be right back where I started: in his arms. Although I was loath to admit it, there was a still a small part of me that loved him; but it was the old Murtagh that I longed for, not the dark servant of the king that had taken his place. The old Murtagh would never return, and it would be better if I just pushed him from my mind completely.

We finally made it back to my room and I was returned to the present. Evander closed the door behind us and I felt its hollow slamming deep in my chest. _What's happening to me?_ Evander came up behind me and placed his hands on my shoulders, turning me to face him.

"What is it, my love? What troubles you?" he asked, planting a light kiss on my forehead.

"I can't stand to be in this place any longer," I whimpered, feeling the tears brimming in my eyes.

"I know," he whispered, pulling me into his chest to wrap me in a tight embrace. "But I think I may have found us an ally who can help you get out."

"Really?" I asked in surprise. "Who?"

"Master Tobias, the librarian," he explained. "I caught him reading a letter the other day, and it bore a standard of two swords crossed over a crown. That is the sigil of the Varden, if I'm not mistaken. I haven't gotten a chance to question him further, but if he supports them, then he could be a valuable ally in helping with your escape."

"That's wonderful news," I said quietly, not wanting the guards outside to hear. "When do you think you'll get a chance to speak with him?"

"I've asked him to meet me tonight, in an alleyway behind the South Tower. If all goes well, we could have a firm plan in place by the end of the week." A smile had spread over his face, but there was sadness in his eyes. As we sat on the edge of my bed, I put a hand on his stubbled cheek and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me," I said quietly. "And I know that you do not want me to go, but I have to. If I don't escape now, I'll never be free of my father. He will find some way to bind me to him, one way or another. Even if the green egg does not hatch for me; which it's looking like it never will at this point."

"There's still a chance," he said, shrugging his shoulder slightly.

"A very slim one." I smiled at him fondly and rested my forehead against his shoulder. "Why don't you come with me?" The question seemed to catch him off guard, and I couldn't believe he'd never thought of that himself before.

"Tabby," he whispered, using my nickname affectionately, "I can't. My father grows ill, and when he is gone... I will have to take his place. I have responsibilities here, and in Belatona. I could not leave, no matter how badly I wish it." I only nodded in response, knowing it would do no good to argue with him.

"Very well... Just take care of yourself, and stay out of the fighting when it comes." He laughed slightly and kissed me on the forehead again. When I tilted my head up to his face, he kissed me on the lips. Before, his kisses had been soft and gentle, but this one was different. There was an urgency there, that I'd never felt before, and he pressed his lips more firmly against mine. I parted my lips slightly, allowing his tongue to brush across my lower lip, and felt my heart lurch in my chest. Then it fell down into my stomach.

Evander had his hand on my leg, gripping my skirts and pulling them up higher so he could place his hand against my bare skin. Where his hand lay, my skin began to tingle and I kissed him more fervently. Before I knew what was happening, his hand was sliding further up my thigh. Gasping for breath, I pulled away.

"Evander," I whispered, my voice raspy. "I—"

"Tell me to stop if you don't want this," he replied, kissing my neck and nibbling lightly on the skin. What did I want? I had known this day would come eventually, but I wasn't sure I was ready for it. My aunt had always said I needed to remain pure for my husband, but I wasn't sure if this felt wrong. No...It didn't feel wrong at all...

"Don't stop," I whispered, pulling his mouth back to my own. He pushed me down onto the bed and then he was on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee. By now, my skirts were up around my hips. His hands traveled over my body, mapping the new territory. His right hand was on my leg again, traveling up my thigh almost to my hip. And then he was gripping my smallclothes, tearing them off...

 

* * *

 

Murtagh's POV

My arm shot out from behind the column where I was hidden, pulling her behind it with me and against my chest. Tabatha glared at me menacingly, her gaze as cold as ice. But it still felt good to have her close to me. Here in the arcade that surrounded the garden, we could stay hidden from Galbatorix's spies.

"What do you want?" she hissed, struggling against my hold on her. I took a moment to stare at her and noticed that there was something different. She looked... somehow older and a little wiser, and there was a certain flush to her cheeks that I had a feeling was not just from the heat of the day. A cold pit formed in my stomach as I recognized that look; I'd seen it on the faces of hundreds of maidens when they'd emerged from my father's chambers in the early morning hours, when they thought no one was watching. I've lost her for good now...

"Only to speak to you," I whispered, obvious pain in my voice.

"How many times must I tell you I don't want to speak to you, Murtagh? Why do you keep insisting upon it?"

"Because I have not given up hope yet," I implored. "I love you, Tabatha."

"Just stop it," she hissed, glancing over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

"I can't. Please, just listen to me. You have to leave here." She scoffed derisively.

"You think that I don't know that? I've been trying to find a way out of here for the past three months. My father has me under strict twenty-four hour watch. There's no way I can slip past the guards." Our time was growing short. I could feel Galbatorix drawing away from his latest torture session. It wouldn't be long before he came to check on me.

"You must find a way. Befriend one of the guards or servants; they know the ins and outs of this castle. I would tell you myself but your father would know the second I did." She eyed me warily for a moment.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked quietly. "You work for my father, and he'd do anything to keep me here. What exactly are you playing at?"

"How many times must I tell you that he's forcing me and Thorn to work for him? But you won't listen! I love you Tabatha, and I want to help you escape." Galbatorix was getting closer; my time was up. "Go, now!" I pushed her back into the walkway of the arcade and walked briskly in the opposite direction. Before I disappeared around the corner, I glanced over my shoulder to see the look on her face. There was a little glimmer of uncertainty there; uncertainty that maybe, just maybe, I'd been telling her the truth this entire time.


	40. Choosing Sides

Tabatha's POV

Why is this happening? Why, when I think I know just what I believe, are all of my resolutions shattered? I'd been of the firm belief that Murtagh betrayed me for the past three months; but then why would he have told me about the servants and the tunnels? Was he trying to trick me so I'll be caught by my father? But then... there was such sadness in his eyes. It was like he'd known what I just did with Evander, and the thought broke his heart, but he still tried to help me. Never have I been so confused before.

I was back in my room, pacing across the wide floor irritably while all of these thoughts and more coursed through my mind. As I was buried deep in my own thoughts, a knock came at the door. "Come in," I called irritably, thinking it was Evander. But when the door creaked open, I saw that it was in fact Galion. My heart skipped a few beats as I wondered why in the world he would be here.

"Good afternoon, Your Highness," he said, bowing slightly. "I hope you are feeling well?" He must have noticed what a heightened state of emotion I was in.

"I'm fine, thank you," I replied briskly. He was about the last person I wanted to see right now besides my father and brother.

"Excellent," he said cheerfully. "If you'd be so kind as to follow me, your father has requested that you join him in the vaults."

"So he can force me to touch an egg that will never hatch for me?" My voice was full of poison, but the strange pale man didn't seem affected. He just continued smiling on, like nothing in the world was wrong, and turned to wait for me to join him. With an agitated sigh, I followed him out into the hall and down the tower, into the belly of the castle. The walls were damp with moisture and the air seemed heavy, making it difficult to breathe. The ten guards that stood in front of the door to the huge vault parted at our arrival, and I felt my heart beating quicker. Here we go...

 

* * *

 

My father stood in the vault with his back to the door, staring intently at the green dragon egg. Whatever thoughts were coursing through his mind, I could guess that he was frustrated. Deep in a shadowy curve of the circular room, Murtagh stood leaning against the stone wall, looking up at me from under a curtain of hair that had fallen in his face. There was a look on his face that made me think he was in some kind of pain. But I couldn't imagine what that pain was.

"Thank you for joining us, Tabatha," the king said darkly.

I scoffed slightly at the absurdity of his words. "It's not as though I really had a choice, is it?" But he said nothing in response; only continued to stare blankly at the egg where it sat shining upon its pedestal. I stood there awkwardly for a moment, looking between the two men before me, and then finally decided to go up to the pedestal. The green egg sat unmoving and unblemished, just as it had the day that I'd first seen it. Hesitantly, I reached out a hand and stroked its smooth service and then spread out my consciousness to see if I could sense the baby dragon inside. Galbatorix didn't seem like he knew what I was doing; if he did, he gave no indication of it upon his face. The mind inside the egg seemed small, and it didn't respond when I probed at it. He must have been in hiding; not that I blamed him, after being in the presence of the king for so long.

 _'Don't come out yet, little one,'_  I said softly, sending his mind comforting and soothing thoughts.  _'It isn't safe. There are evil men here who would enslave you. Be patient; your Rider will come soon.'_  The baby made no response, not that I was expecting it to, so I withdrew my mind back into myself and placed my arm back at my side.

"The dragon will not hatch for me," I said firmly, turning back to my father. "You have failed." His lip curled involuntarily, and I saw that my words had affected him.

"It may be that this dragon will not hatch for you, but once Saphira comes to me, there will be more..." he said quietly. "One way or another, you will be a Rider, and you will rule by my side, daughter. You cannot escape your fate." Without saying anything further, he whirled around and stormed out of the vault, his black leathery cloak snapping behind him. When he was gone, Murtagh and I were left alone in the vault. He looked up at me quickly and caught my gaze, but remained silent.

My heart was hammering in my chest, but I knew I had to say something. This may be my only chance to mend whatever relationship we have left. And I knew that's what I wanted to do now, for certain. "I'm sorry," I finally breathed.

"Wait," he barked quietly, holding two fingers to his temple. "He is not gone yet. We must wait until his attentions are directed elsewhere." It seemed like a lifetime passed in the few minutes of silence that followed. My heartbeat slammed hollowly in my ears, filling up my head. Finally, Murtagh pushed off the wall and came over to me. "He's talking with your brother," he whispered, "we have a few minutes."

"You said you wanted to explain things to me," I began cautiously. "So speak."

He sighed and hung his head. "Where to begin?" I watched him closely as he searched for the words, but remained silent. "That day, in Farthen Dur," he said, causing my heart to leap at the memory, "when I left. I wanted to speak to you upon my return. I wanted to tell you that it was real for me, all of it. I lied to you because I was afraid of myself, of what I would do and how it would look to others. But then I realized that I didn't care. All I wanted was you, Tabby."

"Then why did you leave?" I demanded, feeling the tears pricking at my eyes and willing them to go away.

"I had to," he replied. "My aim was to leave, but first I would have to earn the Varden's trust; that was the best way I could think to do it. I was going to beg you to come with me. I don't know how I would have convinced you, but I wasn't going to give up. And then... well, things didn't turn out the way I planned. The Twins captured me and put me under a spell, the same one your brother used on you at the Burning Plains, and they brought me back here. Your father was furious with me for running away, and he was in here when we first arrived. It was a cruel twist of fate, and an accident really, that I even touched Thorn's egg, and he hatched for me a week later. Your father put me under extreme torture, day and night. We were chained in the dungeons, and every day he would have some new twisted way of getting information out of me." My heart began to hurt from imagining what he'd been through. "I could not keep my memories of you away from him... I'm sorry, Tabatha. Eventually, he was able to learn our true names and used his black magic to bind us to his will. We are enslaved, and must do his bidding, at the risk of great pain."

I was crying freely now, and he reached up a hand to wipe the tears from my cheeks. "I'm so sorry..." I whispered, leaning my face into his hand. "I do not know why the gods have dealt us this hand. What are we going to do?"

"I'm going to help you find a way out of here," he said quickly, his voice full of determination. "However I can. Galbatorix is planning to leave here in a few weeks time, to visit one of his magistrates that's been stealing from the treasury. That will be our one and only chance to get you out. After that, I've been instructed to leave as well. He's left me in charge during his absence, so I'll find some way to distract your brother."

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, shaking my head slightly.

"Because no matter the pain we have caused one another-" He paused here, no doubt thinking about Evander and me- "I still love you, Tabby. I have from the moment I saw you. Now you must go. Your father will be searching for me soon." Now that I had finally listened to him, I didn't want to go. But I knew he was right.

Without saying a word, I put a hand to his cheek and lifted myself up on tiptoes to plant a quick kiss on his lips, feeling the butterflies in my stomach as our lips met. "Thank you," I whispered. Then I turned and nearly ran out of the vault, feeling my heart tearing in two. I felt a sour swirling in my stomach, a result of the mixed feelings and thoughts that I knew could not coexist together in one place for too long. Eventually, I would have to choose, and that was something I didn't think I was prepared to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've adjusted the timeline of the original work just a little bit to fit this story; just know that at this point it's nearing the end of Brisingr.


	41. Freedom From the Cage

I stared up at him pleadingly from my place on the chaise as he paced back and forth. "Please," I whispered, "don't be angry, Evander."

"I don't trust him, Tabby!" he barked. "You know that! This could all be some elaborate ruse set up by the king. How can we know that he's telling the truth?"

"Evander," I said evenly, trying to calm him, "Galbatorix will be away on Imperial business at the time. It's the perfect opportunity. And I know that it may sound crazy to you, but I trust him. He's risking his neck by telling me this anyways. What reason would he have to lie?"

"If what you say is true, then the king has a hold on him and could be controlling what he says. We can't trust anything that comes out of his mouth!"

"I know when I'm being lied to," I quipped sharply. "And he wasn't lying to me. What have you learned of Master Tobias?"

He sighed heavily and put a hand to his temple, rubbing it in a circle. "The man is definitely on the side of the Varden, and he thinks he knows of a way for you to get out."

"That's perfect then!" I cried, jumping off the chaise and coming over to him. "Evander, this is all working in our favor. Now we just have one more person on our side."

"But is he really on our side, Tabby?" He growled a bit from deep in his chest.

"I know him... He  _has_  changed... But there is still a bit of his old self deep down," I explained slowly, putting my hands on either side of his face and forcing him to look me in the eye. "This is my only chance, and I'm going to seize it with or without your blessing."

"I don't blame you for wanting to get away, Tabby. I'm just afraid you won't make it out... But if you're set on doing this, I guess nothing I say is going to stop you, is it?" He smirked at me slightly as I shook my head.

"The times I've spent with you have been wonderful, Evander; some of the best of my life. But this place is no more than a gilded cage. Now I see that the door has been left open and I have to take flight. It may be my only chance to."

"I know," he admitted reluctantly.

"This isn't goodbye forever, Evander. I will return and settle things with my father and brother once and for all. But I need to rejoin the Varden first, to gather allies. Once I do that, I will come back for you. Alright?"

The only thing I got in response was a passionate kiss and embrace. When he kissed me, I could feel there was something different in the way I felt. Before, I imagined that there was nothing else I could ask for in the world. But now, I felt as though something was missing; something lacking in the way he touched me. I couldn't put a finger on just what that  _thing_  was, but before I could contemplate any further, he pulled away.

"I've got a few more things to shore up with Master Tobias, but I'll come back later. Everything is falling into place," he said, smiling down at me sadly. I kissed him quickly once more before he left. I walked over to the high-backed chair by the window as the door closed.

Outside, it was a beautiful summer evening. The birds were chirping merrily and flitting back and forth between the trees, and the sounds of children playing in the street down below drifted up through the open window. To the untrained eye, it would seem a happy place, but I could feel the darkness weighing down on me. I feared if I stayed here much longer, it would eventually overwhelm me. Suddenly, I heard a scraping against the floor coming from the doorway. When I turned to look over my shoulder, I saw a piece of parchment sealed with red wax on the floor. I hurried over to pick it up and then broke the seal. It read:

_Tabatha,_

_Meet me in the dragon hold when you can get away._

_Murtagh_

My heart beat faster as I folded the letter against my chest. Whatever he wanted to say to me, it must have been very important for him to risk sending me a note like this. I looked about my room for somewhere to hide it until the servants lit the fire tonight, and just settled for folding it up beneath my breeches and tunics in the trunk. I looked outside the window to gauge how much free time I had left before the sun sank below the horizon, and figured that I only had a couple of hours left. Quickly, I stole out of my room and hurried down the tower steps. The dragon hold was in the Northeast Tower, all the way across the castle, but the fastest way was to cut through the gardens and then down through the kitchens. At least that way, only the servants would see me. Hopefully, I could slip past the guards that patrolled the halls, but I knew that Murtagh's tower was left unguarded. After all, who would try to slip into a tower that housed a dragon?

The journey was uneventful, as I caught the hall guards in the middle of a change of watch, and I hurried up the stone steps. It was a long way to the top, and took me at least five minutes before I came into the huge open space of the dragon hold. I'd never seen the inside of a beehive, but I had to imagine that this was what it looked like. There were circular openings dotting the sides of the walls almost up to the very top where it curved over to make the cone. They varied in size, obviously to accommodate the dragons that used to live here, but now they all stood empty, unused for decades. But there was one cave, on the very bottom row, where I could see the soft glow of a dragon's red scales reflecting in the sunlight. I hurried over to the opening and stepped up into the cave.

It was much larger than I'd thought it would be; Thorn had ample amounts of room to move around. In front of the empty hearth there were bearskins thrown down, and a red high-backed chair was angled near it. Shelves full of books lined the wall, and on the opposite side of the room was a huge bed covered in more skins. And directly opposite from me was another huge opening in the wall that led to a spacious landing where Thorn was currently basking in the dying sun. Murtagh stood with his back to me, hands upon his hips, and staring out over the sprawling city. Quietly, I crossed the room to stand by his side, but he didn't seem surprised at my appearance. I supposed he sensed me coming all the way from the base of the tower.

I took a moment to survey the view from the landing, and found my breath catching in my throat. "It's so beautiful up here," I breathed. "You must have the best view in the whole city."

"The one light in this dismal place," he replied quietly, glancing at me swiftly. "Aside from you, of course." I couldn't help but smirk at that.

"What is it you wanted to speak to me about?" I asked. He turned then to look at me.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand to grasp mine where it hung at my side, squeezing it gently. "I just wanted to make sure you're prepared. I know the Count has been corresponding with Master Tobias, and it's a sound plan. There's an alleyway behind the South Tower that is virtually invisible to the guards. It will allow you to scale the wall; on the other side there's a wooded area where you can hide until they stop looking for you. The elves enchanted it with magic long ago, so Galbatorix won't be able to scry you, and the magic will cause the soldiers to become lost and confused. You'll be safe there until it's clear to head back to the Varden."

"How long must I wait?"

"A month or so," he said. "But only travel by night, and steer clear of the towns. You're too easily recognized."

"I will."

He stared at me for a long moment after that, his grey eyes alight with a fire I'd seen only once before. Was this why he'd really brought me here? "Tabatha," he began slowly, "I have to know before you leave... Have you forgiven me? I forgave you a long time ago, but I need to know that you've done the same." I bit my bottom lip out of nervousness.  _This was it_. I was going to have to make my choice. I remembered the kiss I'd just shared with Evander, and how I felt it was lacking in some way. And then I knew what I had to do.

Reaching up a hand to cup his face, I brought it down to me where we met in a show of passion. His lips moved slowly against mine, and a fire suddenly started in my belly. My hands moved up to entwine in his dark hair and I pulled him closer against me as his arms wrapped around my waist. I discovered that this fire was what had been missing in my kiss with Evander. Murtagh gripped the fabric of my dress roughly, tugging on it and steering me closer to the bed. This time, I didn't hesitate. I knew deep down inside, no matter what my aunt said, that this was right. This was the way it was supposed to be. The gown was suddenly pulled over my head, leaving me only in my underskirt and corset. It didn't take me long to pull his tunic over his head, exposing his finely chiseled and muscular chest. My fingers raked across his skin, reveling in the feel of it. This was something I'd wanted for so long...

He pushed me back onto the bed gently, running a hand up my thigh to lift my skirts. The boning of my corset dug into my hips painfully, but right now I didn't really care. My whole body felt like it was aflame. He kissed me again passionately and my arms went around his shoulders to caress his back. It was then that I noticed... his scar was gone...

 

* * *

 

A week had passed, and the time for my escape had come. Evander made plans with Master Tobias, while Murtagh instructed one of his more faithful servants to picket Praetorian outside the castle walls and load him up with supplies. The stage was set, now it was only missing its principal player: me. Galbatorix had left early that morning, electing to leave his dragon here and take a couple garrisons of soldiers instead. Now the sun was dipping below the horizon and it was time to leave. Murtagh had made sure a whore was sent to my brother's room, so he wouldn't be an issue, and Galion was away tending to an emergency within the city. Apparently, one of the more prominent noble's house was set aflame by an unknown source.

Evander came to my room to find me staring out over the city one last time. It really was a beautiful city; too bad the next time I would see it I'd be waging war upon it. He came to my side and stared along with me at the buildings lit up pink and orange and purple. "This will all be mine someday. I will take this city alongside the Varden, and I will free these people if it kills me."

"You're still determined to go through with this suicide mission?" Evander asked, one last glimmer of hope in his voice that I'd choose to stay. I turned to face him.

"Yes, I am," I replied firmly. He just nodded and then followed me as we left my room. I wore a heavy cloak to hide my boy's clothes that I'd so missed, and the quiver and sheath strapped about my hips. The guards didn't even blink at seeing me with Evander, so I knew we were at least safe for now. We hurried through the dimly lit corridors, avoiding the servants and guards in little alcoves when we could, and keeping our heads down when we couldn't. The courtyard was silent and unoccupied as we crept along the seashell paths as quietly as possible. The castle was completely dark now that the sun had disappeared and the stone canopy loomed overhead. A guard walked by on the causeway above, but he strolled lazily past and continued on. The practice yard was also deserted, so we hurried over the dirt-covered ground on silent feet. Finally, we rounded the corner of the tower and I saw a figure standing there, holding a glass-paned lantern.

Murtagh turned at our arrival and held a finger to his lips, pointing up to the stone wall next to us. I glanced up its stone heights and saw a guard patrolling the battlements. Murtagh hid his lantern beneath his cloak until the man passed by, not even glancing down in our direction.

"Are you ready?" he whispered to me. I nodded silently and then turned to Evander. He made to kiss me but I wrapped him in a tight embrace instead, too embarrassed to kiss him in front of Murtagh. Without another word, I pulled away and Murtagh and I ran towards the stone wall that had to have been at least a hundred feet high. Evander watched us go, but then retreated back inside to deal with any trouble that might arise if my absence was noticed. Murtagh had a coil of rope wrapped through his swordbelt, and we would use that to repel down the other side. But the problem would be getting up the wall.

Murtagh signaled for me to go first so he could cover me from behind. I tentatively placed my boot in the first foothold and grabbed onto the rough stone jutting out of the wall. It was slow going to get to the top, but I didn't have any problems with slipping. In the dry summer, the stones were not wet so they were easily held onto. Once we both alighted on the top of the wall and checked that no one was around, Murtagh unwound the rope and tied it around one of the crenellations and secured the knot. I looked over the battlements and saw Praetorian far down below, pawing the ground restlessly. Then I turned back to Murtagh and took a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves.

"Well," I said slowly, "I suppose this is goodbye."

"For now," he replied, swooping in and putting a hand at the back of my neck. The kiss he planted on my lips was quick, but there was a fervor there, as though he thought it may be the last time he'd get a chance to do so. "Be safe. Good luck."

"Same to you," I whispered, kissing him one more time. "I will return, Murtagh, to set you free." He only nodded and then stepped away, keeping a hand on the knot in the rope. I gripped it firmly with my gloved hands and swung myself over the side, planting my feet firmly against the stone and slowly walking backwards. His eyes followed me as I repelled down the wall, and the last glimpse of his grey eyes shot my chest through with pain and longing. I reached the soft ground quickly and hurried over to Praetorian. He nickered softly at my arrival and I shoved my small pack into his saddlebags before mounting the saddle. Chancing one last glance up at the wall, I caught the forlorn look upon Murtagh's face before he disappeared behind the stone barrier.

"Come on, Praetorian," I whispered, "let's get out of here." Urging him on with a kick of my heels, he jumped into a canter and hurried across the grassy ground into the wooded area Murtagh had spoken of. The citadel disappeared behind the trees and I could feel the elves' magic washing over me. Hopefully it would be enough to keep me safely hidden until I could devise a way to save those that I dearly loved.

 

* * *

 

Evander's POV

My heart felt like it was cruelly being twisted when I saw her kiss him. I stumbled away from the window where I'd been watching her escape. Part of me had known that this would happen—they had too much history and their feelings had been too strong—but I'd pushed those thoughts away in a vain attempt to make her forget him. Obviously, my efforts had not been enough. I knew there was a reason I didn't trust that good-for-nothing, bastard Rider.


	42. Fate Always Catches Up

Praetorian and I were resting in a glade within the wooded area, sitting by a bend in the Ramr River. I wasn't exactly sure how far out of the capital we were, but at least we could be safe here. The river gurgled quietly behind me; this was a narrower section of the river, so I didn't think any travelers would be bothering me. Besides, if what Murtagh said was true, any foes would become lost due to the wards placed around these woods. That was at least something. The trees were thickly leaved, causing the woods to be forever enshrouded in twilight. I gazed up at the canopy to try and gauge the time of day, but it was nearly impossible. I saw a bit of light filtering through the green leaves, but couldn't tell where the sun's position in the sky was.

Birds sang merrily and insects buzzed nearby, creating a constant hum of life and energy all around me. In a way, it was comforting after living so long in such a bleak place as Uru'baen. But I knew I wasn't completely in the clear yet. Not until I returned to the Varden would I be safe entirely. And even then... a part of me knew that my father would never give up trying to get me back. I sighed heavily as my thoughts weighed down on me, though I knew it would do no good to dwell on them. I stood and walked over to Praetorian where he was grazing and got some dried fruit out of his saddlebag. I would hunt later, but for now I just needed something to tide me over.

"How in the world did we get into this mess?" I mused aloud, stroking him softly and then patting his haunches in a loving way. He snorted slightly and continued grazing, not really paying attention to me. I didn't know how I would survive a month here in this wilderness with just a horse to talk to.

The glade was not very large, but at least it was well hidden. Thickly-trunked trees pressed in around us on all sides, coming right up to the banks of the river, and the canopy overhead was thick. If my father sent Murtagh out looking for me, he'd never be able to see me from above. And the wards around this forest should protect me from scrying or other magical acts. All in all, it was a good hiding spot, but I'd need more shelter if I was to stay here for a while. A large hunting knife had been put in Praetorian's saddle for me, and I used it to hack at some of the larger branches. Thick blades of grass provided ties so I could lash the branches together to form a frame. And then, using my magic, I created a blanket woven from the thick, green leaves of the surrounding trees. The frame fit nicely over two boulders that sat a few feet apart, and then the leaf blanket would shelter me from any rain or other foul weather that might come my way. By the time I was finished constructing my makeshift shelter, it had grown darker and dusk was setting in. The birds had grown quiet and now the tree frogs had taken their place, filling the evening with the croaking voices.

I took Murtagh's bow and ventured beyond the wall of trees, further into the forest. It didn't take long for a hare to cross my path and I easily took it down. Then I started a small fire and constructed a spit to roast him properly. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad; I could do this...

 

* * *

 

Three days later I was sure I was going to go mad. Praetorian didn't offer any stimulating company, though his presence comforted me in the dead of night, and I could only stew on my own thoughts for so long. After a lifetime of being surrounded by friends and family, I realized that I didn't really know how to be alone. How did hermits survive this way? Didn't they crave human interaction? Perhaps that explained why most of them went mad.

I was in the middle of roasting a brown squirrel one evening when the hairs on the back of my neck suddenly stood on end. Looking around me, I thought I could sense someone's presence, but I couldn't see through the thick wall of trees. They stood so close together that it was impossible to make out any shapes between their twisting trunks. Praetorian nickered softly, and I looked over to see that he was alert as well, scanning our surroundings. That's when I knew I wasn't imagining things. Slowly, I stood and drew my hand-and-a-half sword, my muscles tense with the anticipation of attack. If it was a small group of soldiers, I would be able to take them on my own. Any more than ten though, I would have trouble. Hopefully it was just a scouting party, but—

A twig snapped, interrupting my thoughts.

My body was now on high alert, preparing for whatever may come through those trees. I slowly turned in a circle, scanning to see if I could possibly make anything out, but it was quickly growing too dark. My eyes hadn't adjusted to the night yet, so I was in danger of being ambushed. Another twig snapped to my left and I whirled around. In front of me was the river, so at least that was protecting me. But the narrow stretch of water wouldn't do much to slow an attacker. My best chance was to catch them off guard; let them know I was aware I was being watched.

"Who's there?" I called, trying to make my voice as firm as possible. I heard a faint grunting and then the rustling of some leaves. Someone was pushing through branches to come towards me. "Show yourself!" I cried, certain now that it was a human who was coming towards me. Slowly, a thin and hairy leg emerged from the trees, followed by an equally as thin and hair body. A gaunt face popped out from behind the trunk, eyeing me warily, and I realized it was just an old man in tattered, brown rags. A scraggly white beard sprouted from his chin, and sparse white hair covered only half of his head. But his eyes... they were alight with knowledge and life, as if a far younger soul resided in this ancient body.

"Not hiding," he mumbled in a thin, wiry voice. He wrung his hands together nervously, slowly inching out from behind the tree. "Just wanted to get a good look, I did... That's all." He hopped into the water, splashing it up to wet his brown tunic and pants, and I saw that he wasn't wearing any shoes. What an odd person...

"What do you want old man?" I demanded, keeping my sword raised and pointing it towards him threateningly. He scurried out of the river and continued to come closer to me, seemingly unfazed by my sword.

"Just to look, like I said," he replied, observing me with a curious expression on his face.

"And what are you looking for?" I asked, eyeing him suspiciously. I had no doubt I could take this old man if he tried to attack me, but I wasn't sure what he was up to.

"The eyes," he mumbled. Suddenly, he bolted over to me, standing just beyond the tip of my sword. "The eyes!" he yelled louder. He pointed at me and his face took on a look of shock, his mouth dropping open to hang agape. Then, in the blink of an eye, he stood up straight and seemed to be of his right mind. "You must come with me," he said, turning quickly on his heel and heading back across the river.

"Where?" I asked, utterly baffled about what had just happened.

"To my home," he replied over his shoulder.

"Why should I go with you!" I called as he drew further away.

"The fate of the world depends on it!" he returned cryptically. After a moment of silently debating with myself, I decided to follow this strange old man. I wasn't quite sure what it was, but there was something nagging at the back of my mind, pushing me and telling me to trust him. If worst came to worst, I could easily overpower him. Quickly, I snuffed out my fire and took Praetorian by the reins, leading him along behind me. We weaved through the trees and finally caught up to the old man.

He had produced a light from somewhere—though I couldn't imagine from where—for I could see his outline faintly rimmed in blue. "Keep up!" he called over his shoulder, refusing to slow from his blistering pace. I ran to catch up with him and saw that the light came from a flickering blue flame that floated eerily in the palm of his hand, unattached from a candle or anything worldly at all. _He was a magician!_

"Who are you?" I asked, intrigued by this new discovery.

"My name is Asron," he replied. "That is all you need to know at the moment."

After a short walk along a deer path, we came to a small hut situated between two gigantic broadleaf trees. More floating lights burned in the glass-paned windows, and I noticed a small garden around the side. It looked to be a cozy place, but when I entered I saw the place was stacked with books and scrolls, much like Brom's cottage had been. A fire blazed in the small hearth, and a pot of stew hung from a cast iron crane, simmering over the flames that licked at the bottom of the cauldron. Warmth permeated the air, but it wasn't overbearing. The whole place had a very welcoming feel to it.

Asron bustled over to the fire and took a wooden spoon from its hooks to stir the pot. He looked over at me quickly and said, "Stew?" He was already pouring a bowl for himself and setting it on the small roughhewn table, so I obliged and let him pour one for me as well.

"Thank you," I said as he sat the bowl in front of me and handed me a wooden spoon. I ate gingerly, but it was good. There were spices in it I didn't recognize, and the venison was tender. He watched me carefully as I ate, so I slowly put my spoon down on the table next to my bowl. "Perhaps you'd better tell me what it is I'm doing here," I stated, staring Asron down. He nodded quickly and wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his rags, putting his spoon down as well.

"Yes, I suppose you are right," he said quietly. "Have you any idea how many people I've come across in my lifetime that had violet eyes? Hmmm?"

"No," I replied slowly, not entirely sure what he was getting at.

"None! That's how many," he exclaimed, pointing a gnarled finger up into the air. "I've been waiting all my life for you. And what a long life it's been. Three hundred years in this accursed forest and not one single—"

"Three hundred years?" I said, cutting him off.

"Why yes, my dear. I am a Dragon Rider; we live for many years." His voice was calm, as if this was the most natural explanation in the world. _A Rider?_ This was unbelievable!

"Where's your dragon then?" I questioned.

He sighed sadly and cast his eyes down to the table. "Ah," he said quietly, "she died long ago, before I ever came to this place. When she was gone, they sent me here; not a use for me on Vroengard anymore. But my job is a very important one indeed. Yes, they told me it was very special, oh yes, they did..." I noticed that he was beginning to slip back into the mad old man I'd first encountered.

"Asron," I said quietly, bidding him to come back to reality. He shook his head and blinked a couple of times before looking back up at me. "What is this job you're supposed to be doing?"

"I was to simply wait," he replied, drumming his fingers on the solid oak table.

"For what?" I prompted.

"Why, is it not clear? I have been waiting for you! For three hundred bloody years, nonetheless! I have been very diligent indeed, I daresay!" He suddenly jumped out of his chair, knocking it to the floor behind him.

"Wait, Asron! Why have you been waiting for me?" I too vacated my seat and hurried after him as he started scurrying around the hut. Suddenly, he whirled around and jabbed me in the chest with one of his gnarled fingers.

"You are the one! You are the one who will save us all!" he said, clapping his hands excitedly. "Now, just stay right there. I have something to give you." Asron disappeared behind a wool blanket hanging on the wall that concealed what looked like a bedroom. I began pacing the floor nervously, listening to the bumps and shuffles coming from the other room. Finally, Asron reappeared, holding a dark bundle cradled in his arms. His eyes alight with excitement, he came over to me, offering the bundle for me to take.

"What is this?"

"Here, take it," he insisted. "This is what I have been waiting three hundred years to give you. Hurry, take it, take it." Cautiously, I took the bundle from his arms, feeling the weight of whatever was inside, and then Asron reached his hand over the top of the bundle, grabbing a corner of the roughspun blanket. He pulled back one section and then the other, revealing the glittering object I held in my hands.

What I saw there gave me cause for alarm, and I quickly pushed the bundle back into Asron's arms. A pang of terror and lightning hot agony coursed through my body, causing me so much pain that I fell to the floor. Hot tears pricked at my eyes and I had to look away.

In his arms, Asron was holding a shimmering, violet dragon egg.


	43. The Prophecy Fulfilled

"Get that thing away from me!" I screamed, staggering backwards on my hands and knees. "Now!"

"But... it is destined for you," Asron said, confusion masking his face in the dim firelight. "It has been written in the stars for thousands of years."

"I don't care," I growled, slowly getting to my feet. "I don't want to have anything to do with that _thing_." A year ago, I would have been more than happy to accept Asron's offer, but now... so much has changed. I started to edge my way towards the door, planning my escape.

"I need to go," I said, keeping a wary eye on the old man. "I'm sorry; I can't stay here any longer."

As I turned to leave, Asron spoke quietly, catching me off-guard. "What is it you fear, Tabatha, daughter of Adelaide?" I stopped mid-step and slowly turned to face him.

"How do you know my name?" I whispered. "And my mother's?"

"I told you," he said firmly. "It has long been written by the priestesses of old." He gestured for me to take my seat at the table and he set down the glittering egg in the middle of it. And although I was loath to be in the same room as the egg, something—and I'm not sure what—compelled me to stay and hear the old man's story. Reluctantly, I returned to the table and sat across from the old Rider.

"Tell me," he began, "what is it you fear?" I stared long and hard at the egg, knowing deep down inside what it was that terrified me so, but not wanting to admit it. Finally, I took a deep breath and let the truth escape from the confines of my heart.

"I'm afraid of becoming my father," I said softly, focusing on the crackling sound of the fire instead of the pain welling inside my chest.

A knowing light came into Asron's eyes. "Ah," he replied, "I thought that might be it." After a brief pause and a heavy sigh, he continued. "Allow me to tell you a tale, Tabatha Adelaidesdaughter." I nodded but kept my mouth clamped firmly shut.

"Long ago," he said, "in the lands far to the east from here, there lived a tribe of powerful sorceresses. This tribe consisted of only women and their daughters, for they were beloved by the goddess Ashola, and therefore had no need of men. Every woman within the tribe was crafted from the elements of nature—fire, water, earth, and air—by the goddess, and took on her likeness. The most striking feature of these women was their violet eyes." I felt the breath catching in my throat as I thought of myself, and then of Lord Braeden's admission that mine were the same as my mother's. This story was becoming more mysterious, but I knew I had to stay to hear the end of it. "One day," Asron continued, "the leader of the tribe, the High Priestess, prayed to the goddess on behalf of the women of the tribe. Some of them had become unhappy in their seclusion, and wanted to see more of the world. Ashola loved her daughters very much, so she would do anything she could for them. She allowed them to venture west, into Alagaesia.

"Ashola continued to protect her sorceresses as they began to settle in different towns and cities, apart from each other. They retained their powers, and were well respected as herbalists and healers. It was not uncommon for some of these women to become Riders. The combined powers of the dragons and the goddess made such women forces to be reckoned with. But then, Galbatorix destroyed the Riders, taking many of the sorceresses as well. And there was one whose mother was a sorceress and father, an elf; her name was Formora and she betrayed the other sorceresses to join Galbatorix and become one of the Forsworn. Galbatorix was intrigued by her, as she had both the powers of a Rider, and that of a sorceress of Ashola. It was she who prompted him to seek out your mother.

"For you see, Ashola was outraged at the loss of so many of her daughters and, through the High Priestess, vowed to create a sorceress more powerful than any who had come before her, so she could exact Ashola's revenge and kill the king."

"My mother," I breathed, feeling the tears starting to form.

"Ah," Asron replied with a small smile, "that is was Galbatorix and Formora thought as well. This is why he chose to marry her instead of killing her, as he had done with the others. His plan was to harness her power for himself."

"But he was wrong," I cut in, suddenly coming to the realization of the truth.

"In marrying your mother, and conceiving you, Galbatorix succeeded in creating the very weapon that Ashola had intended to destroy him."

"Me," I whispered, a single tear falling down my cheek. I could not imagine the horrible fate that my mother had endured for my sake. She must have known all along...

"Yes, Tabatha _, you_ ," the old man said, leaning closer to the table. "And to fully equip her most powerful weapon, Ashola blessed this egg specifically for you, so your power would be at its fullest when you face Galbatorix. This is no ordinary dragon, Tabatha."

"Then I don't really have a choice, do I?" I said, more bitterly than I should have. But the anger was building up inside me.

"Of course you do," Asron said. "You always have a choice, Tabatha. But sometimes the choice is different than what we think it is. You are afraid that if you become a Rider, then you will become like your father. And if you choose not to bond with this dragon then you can avoid becoming like him. But this could not be further from the truth."

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking into his wise, old eyes.

"You were born of Ashola's love, but also of her vengeance. You were never destined to be like your father; you were always destined to rid the world of his evil. This is your choice, Tabatha: you can choose to use your powers for good, or you can choose to simply sit back and let the world fall into ruin. For that is exactly what will happen if you do not stop Galbatorix." The old man's face had suddenly become very serious.

For a while, I just sat there in silence, contemplating everything he had said. It was a lot to take in, but we were running out of time. I had to make a decision, and fast. So, guided mostly by my instincts, I reached across the table and picked up the dragon egg, almost immediately feeling a jolt of energy course through my entire body. A blinding light filled the hut and swallowed everything up, then quickly disappeared.

"You have made a wise decision, Priestess," Asron said. "I will guide you as best I can, but as I said, this dragon is unlike any other that has come before it. You may have to figure most of it out by yourselves."

"Don't worry about that," I said mirthlessly. "I'm used to it." It wasn't long before spidery webs of cracks appeared on the surface of the egg. A snout suddenly pushed through the cracks, and soon after, a whole, violet-scaled head burst through along with a high-pitched squeak. The rest of the baby dragon emerged, crawling across the table toward me. I had never seen a more beautiful sight in all my life.

Reaching out my hand, it nudged my palm with its forehead where a silver sunburst pattern of light seemed to explode from its scales. A warm sensation ran up my right arm and a soft, white glowing emanated from the point where we touched. It felt like an invisible string sprang out of my heart and connected with the dragon's. I instantly knew she was female, and she was curious about me, but happy to finally be out of her egg. The silver pattern of scales amid the violet ones on her forehead matched the gleaming silver color of her eyes. The thinly-slitted eyes had tiny swirls of black and gold, giving them an immense depth. She rubbed up against my arm, just like a cat would, revealing by the firelight the many silver scales interspersed among the vibrant purple ones. She was a beautiful creature, and I couldn't believe that she was mine, and I was hers. The baby dragon shook loose her wings and let out a massive yawn, crawling into my waiting arms and curling up to fall asleep.

"This is incredible," I whispered, fearing that any noise would disturb her. I happened to glimpse my right palm, and saw a shimmering, silver sunburst that exactly matched the pattern of scales upon my dragon's head. _My dragon..._ The mark was nothing like Eragon's gedwëy ignasia. Asron had been right when he said that this dragon was unlike any other.

"Congratulations," Asron said, finally breaking the silence, "you are now a Rider." The statement filled me with inexplicable joy, but also cast a shadow of dread over my heart.

 

* * *

 

Although I'd seen Brom interacting with Eragon and Saphira when he was alive, I had not witnessed any of Eragon's further training, and I was completely unprepared for what would come my way. Asron was impressed with the grasp of magic that I already had, but he taught me many more things. Apparently, fire was not the only element I could harness to my will. I could control water, and earth, and the air; these skills would come in handy one day, I knew, but right now it was difficult to harness the energy.

"Feel the energy moving within the earth and in the air," Asron said one day as we stood outside his hut. The forest was unusually active this morning, and the birds sang loudly overhead. "When you have mastered _feeling_ the energy, then you will even be able to _see_ it. Every living being has an aura, and these auras take on different shades and hues."

"What can I tell about a person from these auras?" I asked, taking a drink of water from my waterskin while my dragon stalked a field mouse close by. She was growing bigger every day, but she was not quite a month old yet. And she still had yet to decide on a name. I'd given her a myriad to choose from, but none of them seemed to satisfy her childish demands.

"Many things," Asron replied, picking a blade of grass from the ground and twirling it between two fingers. "You can tell how adept a person is at magic by how brightly their aura shines, and also the character of their soul. Most of the time, a Rider's aura will match the color of their dragon. Your friend, Eragon, his aura is most likely blue. This would also indicate that he is a loyal person, and he makes decisions justly and of an unbiased mind. He also probably makes rash decisions, does he not?"

"Yes, what you just described sounds very much like him," I admitted.

"I have known many Riders in my time," Asron said wistfully, staring up into the canopy of golden-rimmed leaves. The sun was shining brightly beyond the forest, but down here it was covered in shadow. "You will tend to see trends amongst people of similar natures when you have lived as long as I have. Now, this other Rider—Murtagh, is it? His dragon is red; therefore his aura is more than likely red as well. And Galbatorix…well, there is no doubt in my mind that his aura is as black as coal."

"How do I do this?" I asked.

"Close your eyes," he said, coming over to me and placing his gnarled hands on either side of my face. I did as he commanded and felt his fingertips pushing down on my temples. "Tap into your power; wherever it is that you feel it is stored. And then clear your mind of distractions. Focus only on one thing at a time. For now, try focusing on the birds. Pick out one song that you hear and focus solely on that. Imagine what the energy of that song would look like." My head began to buzz as my power flowed through me. I felt my dragon's consciousness pressing against mine, but told her not to worry. She didn't leave though; she just continued to observe what I was doing. The birds' songs were a cacophony of different voices fighting to be heard, but I heard one songbird—it sounded like a Kingfisher—whose song soared above the rest in high, melodious tones. The notes flowed into one another smoothly, going up and up to the climax of the song. I began to envision the notes in my head as a glowing string, softly undulating in time to the bird's singing.

And when my eyes flew open, the forest was alive with color. All around me were shades of yellow, orange, red, blue, and purple—every color one could imagine! I gasped involuntarily at the beauty of it as the colors flitted back and forth amongst the trees. Upon the ground, there were more colors. I saw the field mouse my dragon had been stalking, outlined in yellow and scurrying away as fast as it could. The light pulsed wildly with the beating of the tiny creature's heart, and I could feel his life force flowing into the thrum of energy around me.

"Well," Asron said, cutting through my thoughts, "you certainly took to that faster than I thought you would. You really are an enigma." I smiled sheepishly and then looked over at my dragon. She was glowing a brilliant shade of violet, with hints of lilac and silver weaving throughout the cloud of color. She tilted her head at me curiously and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped my throat. This was all too wonderful! "I think we will break until this afternoon," Asron continued, smiling at me and heading back into his hut.

I ran over to my dragon and knelt down next to her, bending over to allow her to scurry up onto my shoulders. Soon, she would be too big for me to carry up there, but right now she was the size of a large cat and perfect for resting upon my shoulders. She nibbled softly on my ear and I patted her snout.

 _'Now, now,'_ I chided. _'No biting. What shall we do on our break? Perhaps think of some more names? I'm anxious for something to call you.'_ I wasn't expecting her to respond with words, but she sent me feelings of happiness and I knew she was in agreement. We traipsed through the woods back to the glade where I'd first made camp and sat by the bend of the river. I took my boots off and rolled my breeches up to my knees, dipping my legs into the running water and reveling in the feel of the water against my skin. My dragon hopped down off my shoulders and splashed through the water, sending it flying up into my face.

I squealed with delight as we played in the water together, and then she crawled up onto the bank and spread herself out to bask in a little beam of sunlight that had broken through the trees. _'So,'_ I began, _'what do you think about Jura? Or perhaps Opheila?'_ She shook her head slightly. _'Lenora? Or maybe Vervada?'_ She snapped her teeth together and I felt her mind pressing against me.

 _'A… Am… Amera,'_ a tiny, female voice spoke within my mind. I was shocked at the strange contact, but knew immediately that it was my dragon. She looked up at me with wide, silver eyes and drew back her lips. From my time with Saphira, I knew this was a dragon's way of smiling.

 _'Amera?'_ I asked incredulously. _'Is that your name? Amera?'_

 _'Yes,'_ she replied. I laughed aloud and scooped her up into my arms. This was _my_ dragon; my Amera.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tabby's dragon's name is pronounced uh-MARE-uh


	44. Amera

_'Tabatha!'_ Amera yelled with wild glee. _'Let's go higher!'_

 _'Amera, I'm already nearly freezing to death,'_ I complained, leaning further over her neck. _'Besides, Asron will be wanting us back before nightfall.'_

 _'Fine,'_ she grumbled, angling her wings to turn back around. I admired Amera's spirit, but sometimes she wanted to push the limits too far and I had to hold her back, for her own protection. I wondered if it had been this hard for Eragon and Saphira—or even Murtagh and Thorn—when they were first starting out. I'd never thought to ask them. Of course, I never thought I'd be in this position either...

Amera landed in front of Asron's hut with a massive _thud_ , shaking the ground. It had only been three months since she'd hatched for me, but already she'd grown to a colossal size. She wasn't as big as Saphira or Thorn yet, but she was well on her way. She really was unlike any other dragon I'd seen or heard of before. And Asron had been kind enough to make a saddle for her, though she'd already gone through two because she wouldn't stop growing at an alarming rate. I'd have to have him teach me to make a saddle so I could help him the next time she outgrew this one.

"There you are!" Asron exclaimed, coming out of his hut in a wild frenzy, startling Praetorian where he was grazing peacefully nearby. "Quickly! Get inside! Both of you!"

 _'What was that all about?'_ Amera asked in confusion.

I looked over at her as I jumped off her back, shrugging my shoulders dramatically. _'I'm not sure. Let's go find out.'_ We made our way towards the hut as Asron disappeared behind the curtain that served as his front door. I pushed the curtain aside and allowed Amera to poke her head into the hut; that's all that could fit anymore. Asron came bursting out of his room, holding a hand mirror and hurrying over to me.

"What is it, Asron?" I asked in confusion. "What's happened?"

"Come," he beckoned, "there is someone who would like to speak with you."

More confused than ever, I craned my neck to look at the surface of the mirror. He handed it over to me and I stared down at the smooth surface inside the gilt frame. But it was not my own face that looked back at me; it was one that I recognized immediately. "Angela!" I exclaimed when I saw her crooked smile, wild brown curls, and kind blue eyes.

"Hello, Tabatha," she replied, as though we'd just seen each other yesterday. "How have you been? Betraying kings, breaking the hearts of princes, and wrangling dragons, I hear?"

"Uh..." I stammered, forgetting her straightforward nature after so long away. "Much has changed," I finally spat out.

"So I have heard from Asron," she smirked knowingly. "I thought you might like to know that the Varden are on the move to Dras-Leona. They've been capturing cities up the coast." She paused, undoubtedly waiting for a response I was unprepared to give. "Perhaps," she continued slowly, "you should consider joining them."

I felt my heart drop into my stomach. "Oh, Angela...I'm not sure if that's such a good idea," I said hesitantly.

"Tabatha, they are sorely in need of your help. We all have to work together if we hope to defeat the king. You cannot do it alone. May I ask, what exactly was your plan?"

I sighed heavily. _'She is right, Tabatha,'_ Amera interjected _. 'We need to let them know we're on their side.'_

 _'I know... you're right.'_ Setting my face into grim determination, I told Angela, "All right, we'll make our way there as soon as possible."

"Very well, I'll let them know that they should expect visitors," she replied, looking over at something—or someone—I couldn't see.

"No!" I exclaimed, and Amera let out a bellow of surprise. "Don't tell them we're coming. I'll tell them in my own way when we get there."

"All right," Angela said, putting up her hands innocently. "Good luck to the both of you." And with that, her kind face faded away, replaced by my own. I handed the mirror back to Asron and looked over at Amera, her huge silver eyes blinking slowly.

"Well, I knew we'd have to come out of hiding eventually." She looked at me sadly, and I knew she was just as scared as me...

 

* * *

 

It was the day of our departure, and I couldn't have been more nervous. My stomach was tied into tight knots of fear, and I was afraid I would wretch at any second. We'd only taken two days to prepare for our leave, but now I was having second thoughts. This place was safe from my father and his minions; why should I leave? But then I remembered the prophecy Asron had told me of. I had to fight and defeat my father, or else his reign of terror would continue for however much longer he lived.

 _'Everything will be all right, Tabatha,'_ Amera consoled me.

 _'I know,'_ I sighed. _'I'm not sure why I'm so nervous. I just don't know—'_

 _'I do,'_ Amera said, cutting me off. _'You're afraid they'll persecute you. And you think they will believe what you first thought: that you'd become your father.'_

 _'Amera,'_ I said, smiling sadly and laying my head against her massive foreleg, _'sometimes I think you know me better than I know myself.'_

 _'We are twin souls,'_ she replied softly. _'The goddess Ashola made us to be that way.'_

 _'She did a good job.'_ I felt Amera shake and heard her utter a sound I could only assume was laughter.

Asron finally emerged from his hut, holding two brown parcels in his hands. "All ready to go?" he asked, a twinge of sadness in his voice.

"Yes, I think so," I said, still a little uncertain. "Thank you, for all you have done for us."

"Ah, I did nothing. You and Amera figured most of it out by yourselves," he said, chuckling softly.

"True," I agreed. "But if it hadn't been for you in the first place, I never would have found her."

"Ah well, you've got me there," he laughed. "Here, this is rightfully yours." He handed me one of the parcels. I opened up the package and pulled out a beautiful, black velvet cloak, embroidered with silver thread to look like the constellations of the night sky.

"Oh, thank you Asron," I whispered, stroking the soft fabric delicately. "It's beautiful. Where on earth did you get it?"

"Ashola gave that cloak to the first priestess she ever made. That sorceress then passed it down to her daughter, then her daughter to her daughter, and so on. She was also the first of her kind to become a Rider..." He then passed me the second parcel, which was much thinner and longer than the other had been. I opened it up and revealed a beautiful sight.

"Oh my..." I breathed, staring down at the glittering, violet sword. I looked at the runes of the Ancient Language—which Asron had been teaching me over the past few months—that were etched into the blade in black, swooping letters. The runes spelled out the blade's name. "Manin..." I said softly.

"It belonged to the first High Priestess as well... Her name was Tabatha, so I think it is fitting. This cloak will keep you and Amera out of sight—one of its many magical properties—and it will augment your powers. Take care not to lose either of these items; I had a difficult time getting them in the first place."

I suddenly wrapped the old man in a tight hug. "Thank you," I said, "for everything." For a split second, I almost asked him to come with us, but I knew he never would. He'd lived in these woods for so long, I didn't think he knew how to be a part of the real world any longer. Instead, I smiled at him sadly and hurried over to Praetorian. I stroked his neck lovingly and sent him thoughts of comfort and farewells. I couldn't be sure, but he seemed to understand. Then I took Murtagh's bow and quiver from his saddlebags and transferred them to Amera's.

"Good luck to you both!" Asron called.

"I give Praetorian to you, as a gift for your teachings," I said, giving him a slight bow. "May favor smile down upon you." The last line I said in the ancient language, more a blessing than a farewell. He raised his hand as I clasped the cloak around my shoulders and clambered into Amera's saddle _. 'All right, Amera,'_ I said. _'Let's go.'_

 

* * *

 

Two days later, the soaring spires of Dras-Leona's cathedral came into our sight. Leona Lake shimmered in the distance, the light of the fading sun glinting off its placid, mirror-like surface. Outside of the city, we could see the Varden's camp, a sea of white tents spread out over a huge area. I was thankful that the magical cloak concealed us, or else we would never have been able to reveal ourselves on our own terms.

 _'There's a hill just outside of the camp,'_ I told Amera, pointing. _'We'll land there.'_

Amera angled herself downward and landed as softly as she could behind the hill. I removed the hood of the cloak and saw Amera's body and mine suddenly appear before my eyes. This cloak certainly would come in handy in the coming battles. I jumped off her back as she folded her wings to her sides and hunkered down behind the knoll.

 _'Are you ready?'_ she asked, looking up at me with the silver discs of her eyes.

 _'As ready as I'll ever be,'_ I said, readjusting Manin at my belt.

 _'Good luck,'_ she said reassuringly, nudging me fondly in the shoulder with her snout. I patted her nose in thanks before repositioning the hood of my cloak over my head. Walking through the camp unseen was an invaluable asset I couldn't have done without. If ever I saw Asron again, I'd have to thank him properly. Finally, I found Nasuada's red pavilion at the center of the camp and silently slipped past her guards.

Within, Nasuada, Eragon, and Arya were gathered around a huge map of Dras-Leona centered on the table. "We have to find a way into the city," Eragon said emphatically. "We've run out of options... We can't fight him." I wondered who the "him" was they were speaking of. Surely Galbatorix wasn't here?

Nasuada's firm voice interrupted my thoughts. "I'm well aware, Eragon," she snapped, "but there is no _way_. We have found nothing in all of our maps of Dras-Leona, and our scouts can't get close enough to the outer wall to find a weak spot. I will not waste good men chasing a fool's errand!" She slammed her fist down hard on the table, causing it to shake.

Suddenly, Arya raised a gloved hand to call for silence, and the other hand rested firmly on the hilt of her sword. It was then that I noticed my breathing had quickened during Eragon and Nasuada's exchange. "I hate to interrupt," Arya breathed, quiet but still deadly in her tone, "but this conversation is no longer private." _Damn her razor sharp senses! Damn them to the seven hells!_

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked in confusion.

"Magic is at work here," the elf said quietly, looking around the tent. My heart was racing, beating so loudly that I was sure she could hear it. Her eyes passed over me, but then settled back on where I was standing. I supposed I would have to reveal myself now. Tapping into my power, I willed the magic of the cloak to reveal me without having to take off the hood. I felt a roiling in my stomach and knew that the magic was working.

By Eragon and Nasuada's gasps of surprise, I knew that I had become visible. Eragon and Arya drew their swords and pointed them at me; Nasuada held a silver dagger aloft. I pulled Manin out as well, in case they attacked before I had a chance to explain. The purple color of the blade glinted wickedly in the dim torchlight. Arya let out a small gasp of surprise—something I'd never heard from her before—when she caught sight of the sword.

"Manin," she breathed.

"Arya, what is it?" Eragon asked uncertainly.

"That sword," she said, "...it can't be." She actually seemed to be caught off-guard. "It is a fable weapon; one that is countless centuries old, and is said to have been blessed by the gods... It is also a Rider's sword."

"What?" Eragon asked incredulously. "That can't be... Show yourself!" This last part was directed at me, and I was frozen solid trying to think of what to say or do.

"It was stolen from the palace at Ellesméra many hundreds of years ago," Arya said, still confused. "I don't know how..."

"Put this to rest, swordsman," Nasuada cut in. "Show yourself, or suffer the consequences."

I hand no choice now. Slowly, I reached up and pulled the hood away from my face, letting my waves of dark hair fall about my shoulders. Eragon dropped his sword in shock, and his mouth fell agape. "T-Tabby," he stuttered, looking me up and down.

Dropping my sword to my side, I said softly, "Eragon." I saw the tension leave Arya's body, and Nasuada looked visibly relieved as well. Suddenly, Eragon walked over to me. He put a hand on my cheek, probably checking to make sure this wasn't a dream, and then pulled me to his chest in a tight hug.

"Tabby," he whispered, "we all thought you were... we all thought the worst, to be sure." I could hear the emotion coloring his voice and I couldn't help the tears that sprang forth from my eyes. He pulled away to look at me. "Tabby, what happened to you? How did you escape?"

"It's a very long story," I said, laughing a bit from the sheer happiness that I felt. It was so good to be back amongst my friends. "And it is one that must wait for another time. First, there's something I have to show you." I saw the confusion masking Eragon and Nasuada's faces, and the distrust in Arya's eyes. "Come with me," I said, leading the way out of the tent.

 

* * *

 

Eragon's POV

_'Where is she taking us, little one?'_ Saphira asked as she lumbered along beside me. As soon as I'd informed her of what was happening, she'd come immediately to my side.

 _'I'm not sure,'_ I replied with a shrug. _'Whatever she wants to show us though, it must be important if she's brought us all the way out here.'_ Saphira just grumbled in response. We were far outside of the camp by now, and the darkness of night was closing in so far away from the light of the torches. The only light we had to guide us came from a glass-paned lantern that Tabatha held aloft in front of her. Suddenly, Tabby stopped beside a low hill and turned to face us. I could tell that Arya was on edge, but Nasuada seemed strangely at ease.

"Tabby," I said in concern, "what is it?" There was a cold pit forming in my stomach, though I couldn't say why.

"Please," she implored, "try not to overreact when you see this." Her eyes were on me, so I nodded slowly to try and reassure her. But I was making no promises.

Tabby looked over to the hill beside her, worry coloring her face. What in the world could she be doing? Suddenly, we all heard a whoosh of air and then a sight I never thought I'd see landed before our eyes. My breath caught in my throat and I could feel Saphira's surprise as well. For in front of us stood a great, purple and silver dragon.


	45. Facing My Fate

Tabatha's POV

Eragon was looking green in the face, like he might pass out at any moment. Nasuada and Arya had similar looks of shock on their faces, and Saphira was emitting a low growl from deep within her throat. I couldn't tell if she was just surprised as well, or if she was angry. I hoped it was the former and not the latter.

"How can this be possible?" Eragon whispered, his voice sounding raspy.

"I'm not even sure myself," I admitted. "There is much that I have to tell you."

"Then you better go ahead and start telling us," Nasuada said, not unkindly. "If the tale is as complex as you have suggested, we may be here til morning." Eragon started a small fire and we all settled in for the long haul behind the grassy knoll. It was going to take me a while to recount everything that had happened to me.

I told them about the Burning Plains, and how I'd originally thought it was Murtagh. Eragon had known that it wasn't him, but when I'd revealed that it was actually Gregorio—or Léod, rather—he had been caught off-guard. They were all even more surprised when I told them that he was also my brother.

"If Galbatorix was able to hide both of his children from the world for seventeen years, then who knows what else he's hiding?" Nasuada mused quietly. I could see the wheels were turning in her head, but I couldn't think what plan she was formulating. Then I told them how I'd escaped, and that Murtagh had fought against my father's hold on him long enough to help me get out. Nasuada was happy to hear that her letters had been reaching Master Tobias, as they'd been working with him as a spy since her father was still alive. I decided, and Amera agreed, that it would be best to leave out the part about Evander for now.

And then I told them how I'd met Asron in the enchanted woods, and his knowledge of my mother and the prophecy that surrounded my birth. All the while, Arya stared at Manin where it rested across my lap, her face set into a scowl that furrowed her smooth brow. I told them how it had been my choice to become a Rider, though it was a difficult one for me to make. I gave them a few details of my training, but by now the sky was turning pink in the east where the sun would soon be rising. With a sigh, I finished my tale. "...and then I came back. There's nothing left to tell."

"That's simply incredible," Arya said quietly, shifting her unsettling, emerald gaze to the crackling flames that were dying down.

"I can't believe it," Eragon agreed. "It's like something we would hear in one of Brom's stories."

"Just so there is no doubt," I said, directing this at Nasuada, "I'm on the side of the Varden. I will fight against Galbatorix until the very end."

She looked up at me from across the fire, the light of the flames dancing in her dark eyes. "I know, Tabatha," she said, smiling softly. "There was no doubt about that in my mind. But all the same, I will request that Eragon be allowed to search your minds, as a precautionary measure, of course."

"I understand," I said, nodding.

Eragon looked as though he had suddenly snapped back to reality. "How is your dragon so big, Tabby?" he said, gazing up at Amera where she stood beside me. "You said she only hatched for you about three months ago. It doesn't make sense."

"I told you, Eragon," I said, rubbing Amera's side absentmindedly. "Amera is unlike any other dragon that's come before her. She was blessed by the goddess Ashola to be unparalleled in her might and power, and she was blessed to be mine. We are two parts of the same soul; meant for each other since before we were born. It's amazing." Saphira grumbled softly; no doubt her vanity was injured by my statement. But it was the truth. "Look," I continued, holding out my palm to show Eragon my own version of the gedwëy ignasia and compare it to his own.

"How odd," he whispered to himself, inspecting my hand. "I don't know what to say. This is more than I—or anyone else, for that matter—could have hoped for. We have a fighting chance against Galbatorix now."

"But the question still remains: will she be able to put aside her personal feelings for Murtagh?" Arya suddenly blurted out. I glared at her intensely across the fire; my hate for her was reaching an all-time high.

"Arya," Eragon warned. But it was too late; she'd already opened her mouth again.

"It's a valid question," she continued, her green eyes shining menacingly and her full lips set into a snarl. "Will you be able to put aside your feelings if the time ever comes when you'll have to fight him?"

As I sprang to my feet, Amera growled behind me and Eragon lunged for my arm, grasping it firmly and holding me back from jumping across the flames to throttle her thin, porcelain neck. "How dare you question my loyalties?" I spat across the flames, which now seemed hotter than ever. Of course, I knew where her doubts were coming from. I myself had been questioning the very subject before I even chose to become a Rider. "I will do what is necessary _if and when_ the time comes." My voice sounded braver than I felt.

She slowly got to her feet and wiped the dirt off her breeches. "That is all I wanted to know," she said, her voice infuriatingly calm. Then she turned and stalked off towards the camp. I wrenched my arm out of Eragon's grasp and walked back to Amera's side.

"I'm sorry, Tabatha," Eragon said. "I know Arya is just concerned with protecting the Varden, but it was wrong of her to say such things."

I gave myself a moment to calm down, and now I could think clearly. "No," I said quietly, turning back to face him, "she was well within her rights to ask. I would have done the same had our positions been reversed. I just lost my head, that's all."

Eragon eyed me for a moment. "You really have changed a lot, Tabby."

"I know," I replied. "I can't say if it's for the better though." This last part I said more to myself than to anyone else. I glanced up at the sky, and saw that its first rays were peeking over the horizon. Soon, Amera and I would have to reveal ourselves to the world, and I was dreading it.

Nasuada must have sensed my discomfort, for she said, "Don't worry, Tabatha, I'll take care of it. We'll give you a proper introduction and then you can reveal yourselves."

"Thank you," I said, genuinely meaning it. She headed back to the camp, leaving Eragon, Saphira, Amera, and me alone together.

"You don't know how long I've wanted this," Eragon said quietly.

"What?" I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Another Rider to _talk_ to." He smiled, but there was a tint of sadness to it. "No one else understands what I go through. Nobody knows how hard it is or the kind of pressure that's put on me. But now you will, Tabby. It will be hard, that I can promise you, but I can also promise you that I will help you as much as I can." I couldn't help the wave of gladness that suddenly rushed over me, so I wrapped him in a hug, having to get up on my tiptoes to encircle his neck with my arms. After everything that had happened to me—after all the hell I'd been through—I just needed a friend to hold me and comfort me. Eragon was what I needed. And in that moment, I realized that Eragon was what I would always need. We were bound to each other now, through the bonds of friendship and unity, and would never be parted again.

I pulled slightly away to look him in the eye. "Eragon," I began, choking back the tears that I could feel coming, "I'm so sorry. I am sorry for everything. When I said that we shouldn't see each other again, I didn't mean it. I never did."

"I know, Tabby," he whispered. "It's all right; I know why you said it. None of that seems to matter anymore."

"I suppose we were never destined to be apart," I said, laughing slightly to myself. "I'm going to need you more than ever now, to help me get through this."

"Do you remember," he continued, "when we were in Carvahall, what you said to me that night you discovered Saphira? It was so long ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday."

"What did I say?" I asked him, smiling fondly at the memories of a time that had been much simpler than now.

"I had so unwisely claimed that I realized that great task that lay before me," he said, snorting at his own ignorance. "And then you told me that I could not possibly imagine what would happen to me. You were right, Tabby. You were so right."

"And now I am in the same position," I said, a great wash of melancholy suddenly coming over me.

Eragon glanced over at the camp and I followed his gaze, noticing that a great mass of people were gathering in the center of the camp, outside Nasuada's pavilion. "We'd best go," he said. "You two wouldn't want to miss your big entrance." He gave me a small half-smile, but it didn't do much to lighten my mood. We headed back to the camp, going the roundabout way behind the tents so as not to be seen. It was easy enough for Amera to hide behind Saphira's larger form.

 _'I like this Rider,'_ Amera said as we walked in the dim, dawn light, _'and Saphira is kind. She has said she will show me everything she knows about flying and combat.'_

 _'That's wonderful, Amera,'_ I replied. I was overjoyed that she would have someone to show her the ropes, and I felt that it would be good for Saphira as well to have an eager student. When we finally came around the back of Nasuada's pavilion, all we could do was wait. It wouldn't be long now.

"...reason I've called you all here this morning," I heard Nasuada saying to the waiting crowd. They must have been very confused as to why they'd been roused from their beds so early. "Today is, in fact, a glorious day for the Varden." I heard muttering and shuffling from the gathered group. "We have just learned that there is another Rider in Alagaesia. I present her to you now." A hushed awe settled over the crowd.

 _'That's our cue,'_ I said, climbing up into the saddle. _'Are you ready?'_

 _'Of course,'_ Amera said triumphantly. She vaulted into the sky and soared over the tent and the waiting crowd beyond. A chorus of cheers erupted such as I have never heard before; it was nearly deafening. Amera let out a roar to please the crowd, eliciting even more cheers from the Varden. I held Manin aloft over my head as Amera circled back around to land in front of the red pavilion. Eragon and Saphira were already waiting next to Nasuada, and Arya stood close by, arms crossed over her chest.

"Tonight, we shall feast in honor of our newest allies! Tabatha and Amera!" They all cheered again and I couldn't help the smile that came over my face. Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all...

 

* * *

 

It was later that day, after Amera and I had gotten settled into our own tent and while we walked around the edge of the camp, that I saw a sight which made my heart lurch forward, feeling like it would pop out of my chest at any moment.

_Thorn._

He was draped over the wall of the city, looking peaceful as he slept there. Why hadn't Eragon told me that Murtagh was here? I knew I was a little sensitive about that subject right now, but that was a piece of information I had a right to know. I should have guessed that he would be here, but I had hoped against it fervently. Perhaps I'd have to confront them sooner than I'd thought.

 _'I have mixed feelings about him,'_ Amera said as she gazed at his glittering, crimson form.

 _'It's because I have mixed feelings about Murtagh,'_ I admitted. _'I am sorry.'_

 _'There is no need to apologize,'_ she said. _'I understand.'_

At that moment, I saw a form walk along the wall and sit down next to the great red dragon. I could only guess as to whom it was, but my heart told me I was correct: _Murtagh_. Well, he'd probably seen us by now; there would be no more hiding. My heart skipped a couple of beats as I looked at him. Although I hated to admit it, Arya was right. If we ever were to meet in battle—which would likely be very soon—I'd be hard pressed to put these feelings aside. But I could not allow them to hinder my judgment and stop me from doing what I must. As we stood there, I continued to stare up at the wall, gazing at my fate, and also very likely, my doom.


	46. Of Love and War

"Tabatha?" Eragon said from behind me. "Tabby, are you all right?" I shook my head to stop myself from staring at where Murtagh and Thorn were still sitting on the wall of Dras-Leona. I had gotten so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even realize that the sun was going down. Amera and I had sat here nearly the entire day.

"Yes, I'm sorry," I said, turning to him with a false smile. "I was just thinking, is all."

"The feast is about to begin. I was worried when you didn't show up," he said, looking over to the wall where I had just been gazing. "I can't imagine how hard this must be for you, Tabby. And I just want you to know that I'm here to talk or... whatever you need, I'm here." I didn't want to talk about this right now, but I knew I couldn't push Eragon away. I'd just gotten him back.

"Thank you," I said softly, slowly getting to my feet. "But I think I've moved on now. I was in love with Murtagh once, to be sure. But much has changed since then. Even if I _can_ find a way to save him... I don't know how we'd ever be together. We were suspected of treachery before, and now with two dragons at our sides... Well, it won't be easy, that much is clear. Perhaps it is better this way. We might as well accept our fates now. It will be easier to reconcile with each other when the time comes."

"Yes, you're right," Eragon said, seeming to be pondering something. "But sometimes we have to fight for the things that matter most." He was glancing at me out of the corner of his eye, and I thought I saw a little spark of mischief there, like the old Eragon.

"Oh, Eragon," I said, chuckling slightly and hanging my head. "Some things never change, do they?"

"No, they do not. Now come on," he said, putting an arm about my shoulder and turning me back towards the camp, "you're missing your own party."

 

* * *

 

The party held in mine and Amera's honor was a whirlwind of food, drink, music, and dancing. I couldn't remember a time when I'd been so happy. Apparently, Saphira had warned Amera of the dangers of mead—and a strange elvish drink called faelnirv—but I still glimpsed her taking a few gulps here and there. After a while, I could feel her thoughts becoming fuzzy and I couldn't help my laughter. Eragon and I danced for a while, and I happened to notice Arya sulking off to the side as she watched us. A warm bloom of triumph spread through my chest, making me feel a sense of elation. Then Roran stole me away, spinning me about wildly with his thickly muscled arms. I was glad to hear that he and Katrina were doing well. After Roran released me to return to his wife, my cousins tried to pick a fight, not fully realizing how badly I could beat them now.

"Little cousin!" Albriech boomed, mussing up my hair and trying to put me in a chokehold. " _You_ turned out to be a big, bad Rider? Who could have guessed it? And who would have thought _two_ Riders would come from Carvahall? We'll show the Empire we're a force to be reckoned with!" I easily slipped out of the sloppy hold and turned quickly to face him.

"Yes, well now I can whip you in a fight," I said, punching him in the arm a little harder than was necessary. "Where are Aunt Elain and Uncle Horst?"

"They're around here somewhere," Baldor laughed, waving his hand in a general direction. When Albriech realized I wouldn't rise to his taunting, he turned to Baldor and tried to tackle him. Yes, it seemed like some things never did change.

"Thanks for that helpful piece of information," I growled as I stalked off to find them. Finally, I spotted my uncle's large frame in the crowd. He looked even more weathered—if that was possible—and he seemed to have aged ten years. I couldn't even begin to imagine what they had been through. I felt bad that I hadn't come to see them before now, but I'd just gotten so lost in my own head that I let go of my sense of time. Eventually, Uncle Horst spotted me making my way towards him.

"Tabatha!" he cried out, pushing through the people milling about to get to me. When he finally reached me where I'd stopped, he wrapped me in a crushing bear hug, cracking the bones in my back. I'd almost forgotten how strong he was.

"Uncle Horst!" I returned, laughing wildly. "You're going to break me!" He set me down on the ground, as the others around us laughed.

"I could never break you, Tabby. You're a Rider now, after all," he said, laughing and clapping me on the shoulder like I was one of the boys. After a moment of just looking at each other, he said, "You look so much like your mother, may she rest in peace."

"Uncle..." I began, yearning to tell him what I knew now. But he cut me off with a wave of his hand.

"Come, let's find your aunt. There's someone she'll want you to meet," he said, leading me through the crowd. I couldn't imagine who would be here that I hadn't already met—as it seemed all of Carvahall had been uprooted and brought here—but I let him lead the way nonetheless. Eventually, we came upon my aunt sitting at one of the many wooden tables, cradling a small bundle in her arms. Realization suddenly dawned on me and I rushed to her side.

"Aunt Elain!" I exclaimed. "You've had a baby? When did this happen?" She hadn't been pregnant when I'd left, and I couldn't imagine the struggle she'd been through trying to leave our home while pregnant with new life. I leaned down and pulled back the cloth the baby was swaddled in, inspecting the infant's face. "Oh, Aunt Elain..."

"Her name is Hope," she said, smiling fondly down at her daughter, my new cousin.

"She's beautiful; absolutely gorgeous," I said, cooing over the baby girl in a very girlish fashion.

"Well, we have Eragon to thank for that," my aunt mused quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"She was born with a cat lip," she replied. I sucked in my breath, knowing full well what a curse like that would have meant had it gone untreated. "He healed her, and we can never thank him enough for it." I turned and searched the crowd for him, finally finding him locked in conversation with Arya. Once I caught his attention, I tried to convey the depths of my gratitude through my gaze. He must have understood, for he smiled and nodded obligingly.

"Oh, Tabatha, it is good to see you again," Aunt Elain said wistfully, giving me a sort of half-hug with her one free arm. "After you and Eragon disappeared from Carvahall, your uncle and I were so worried. We didn't know what to think. But rumors finally came to us of a Rider that traveled with a young man and a girl with violet eyes. We knew it must be you and Eragon, but we never imagined that Eragon was the Rider. And now so are you! How our lives have changed in such a short amount of time!"

"I can hardly believe it myself sometimes," I said quietly. After a few more moments of conversation with my aunt—In which I swiftly avoided the topic of the other young man of our group—I rejoined the party, jumping into another bout of drinking. Roran seemed to be locked in competition with my cousins. Albriech was about to fall over any moment, but Baldor was giving him a good fight. Finally, Roran slammed his tankard down on the wooden table and raised his arms above his head triumphantly. The villagers gathered around all cheered wildly and the men clapped him on the back. Baldor looked exhausted, and I saw Albriech running to the edge of the party to wretch in the grass. Boys never learn, do they?

 _'Saphira was right about this mead,'_ Amera said, her thoughts slightly slurring together.

 _'I seem to be influencing you with my bad habits,'_ I laughed.

 _'Oh no, it's fine. I like it!'_ she exclaimed. And then I saw her stumble through a crowd of people with Saphira by her side, sending them all running in terror. I had to laugh at the sight of two drunken dragons.

"And I thought the sight of one dragon was amazing. But the sight of two, and now _three_..." a voice said from behind me. That voice made me grow rigid, and sent shivers up and down my spine. _Not_ the good kind either...

Slowly, I turned to look at him, feeling my pulse race for reasons I did not want to admit. What was he doing here? "Miles..." I breathed. "I didn't realize you were joining the Varden." He smirked in that way that was so familiar to me, but not from him.

"That seems to be a talent of mine: showing up in places where you least expect it," he said, coming to stand beside me and gaze out over the party. "My father got it into his head to join the Varden when he'd heard you'd gone missing. I think he feels you are his last connection to Adelaide, and the thought of losing you nearly sent him mad. I was afraid I'd have to tie him up to keep him from going to Uru'baen himself to get you back."

"Braeden is here as well?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes, and he's been waiting to speak to you all day," Miles replied. I couldn't stop myself from looking over at him, and the moment I did I regretted it. As I looked at him, I could just glimpse Thorn over his shoulder, draped across the city walls and keeping an eye on things. It was impossible not to think of Murtagh in that moment.

"Tabatha!" I heard from across the crowd. Then I saw Braeden coming towards us, a bright smile upon his face.

"Hello," I said once he was close enough, feigning as much happiness as I could muster. "It is good to see you again, Braeden."

"We thought the worst, Tabatha. I am overjoyed to see you safely returned to us," he said, wrapping me in a quick hug.

"I'm glad to be back," I said, giving him a small smile. I didn't think it was very convincing though, for he eyed me carefully before taking a step back.

"Well," he said, "I'm sure you're busy enjoying yourself and getting caught up with your friends and family." He glanced over at Miles. "I'll leave you to it. We shall speak later." He turned and strode briskly away, disappearing in the throngs of people.

"You should not treat him so," Miles said once his father was out of sight. "He was sick with worry when you were taken; he loves you as if you were his own child." I could hear the derision in his voice, and wondered if there was jealousy there.

"I'm sorry," I said, trying to clear my head, "it isn't him, it's just—"

"What?" he snapped very suddenly, turning to face me. "Just what, Tabatha? You cannot use your kidnapping as an excuse. You've been like this ever since we first met."

I could feel my anger rising up inside of me. "You wouldn't understand," I snarled, staring up at him hatefully.

He grabbed me by both of my arms, squeezing to the point of pain. "Then make me understand," he growled.

 _'Tabatha, what's happening?'_ Amera asked in concern. I could hear her deep growl from across the party.

 _'It's all right,'_ I told her. _'I've got it under control.'_ I struggled against Miles' strong grip; I knew I could have used my magic against him, but I didn't want to. These people were afraid of me enough as it was; I didn't need to give them another excuse to fear me. "Unhand me," I growled, pushing against his chest.

"Just talk to me," he pleaded. "Tell me what it is I have done to offend you?"

"I asked you the same thing once, Miles," I spat. "And you told me it was not because of anything I had done, but because of _who_ I was. Well, I can't stand the sight of you Miles." Finally, I was able to break free of his grip.

And then I ran.

I ran without really looking where I was going; I just knew I had to get away. The white tents rushed by in a blur, forming a sort of tunnel in my vision. When I couldn't run any longer, I found myself outside my tent. At least my instincts were still functioning properly, even though my heart had taken control of my head.

 _'Do you need me to come to you?'_ Amera asked, worry coloring her voice.

 _'No, I'm fine,'_ I lied. _'I just need to rest. You stay and have a good time.'_ Without waiting for her response, I withdrew from the mental contact and sealed myself off, throwing up my iron hard barriers and plopping down on my cot. Can I never escape his memory? Will I be doomed to carry Murtagh's ghost around with me forever? With a heavy sigh, I dimmed the lantern using my magic, leaving the tent awash in a soft, orange glow. It was relaxing to sit here in silence. But, as with most things in my life, I was never allowed a moment of peace.

"Tabatha," I heard him say. My eyes remained closed, hoping that if I ignored him he would simply leave. After another moment or two of silence, he still had not left. So, I reluctantly opened my eyes to look up at him. He stood uncertainly near the entrance to the tent, his eyes wide with some emotion I could not place. Was it fear? Anxiety?

"Miles..." I said, my thoughts running in a hundred different directions. "What part of _'leave me alone'_ do you not understand?"

"I think I deserve an answer to the way you have treated me."

Perhaps he was right. If I could just explain it to him... "Oh, Miles," I muttered through the darkness, "it is not a simple answer."

"I don't have anywhere else to be."

"You haven't done anything. It's just that... You look and act so much like the man I love... The man I love and can never have; it's just too painful for me to be around you. Every time I look at you, I can only think of him."

"So... it really isn't me at all?" he asked in confusion.

"No, Miles, it's him. Whenever I'm with you, it's almost like he's here. I can't stand it." I was trying desperately to choke back the tears that threatened to spill over.

A tumult of emotion crossed his face before he nodded. "Very well," he said softly, "then I shall never bother you again, Lady Tabatha. I apologize for the inconvenience I have caused you." He bowed stiffly, clicked his heels, and then strode out of the tent, throwing the flap aside in his anger. When he was finally gone, I breathed a sigh of relief. It felt as though a great pressure had been lifted off my shoulders.

 

* * *

 

Miles' POV

The night air pressed in around me, making my head feel as though it was going to explode. She was, quite possibly, the most infuriating girl I'd ever met. So why did I continue to torture myself in this way? It's obvious she carries no regard for me, neither as a man nor a friend. Not even an ally! She will have nothing to do with me... So why do I keep trying?

I stalked angrily through the camp back to the tent that Father and I shared, and when I threw the flap aside I quite startled Isabelle. She was there, folding clothes and storing them in our trunks. It seemed to bring her peace to help us with little mundane activities, so Father allowed her to stay.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't think you would be back until much later." She quickly stored the pile of clothes she was holding in the trunk.

"My apologies," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair and sighing heavily. "I did not mean to startle you." She stood there awkwardly wringing her hands and looking at the dirt floor, trying to avoid making any eye contact with me. Was I really so disgusting to the female sex?

"I'll just go," she said quietly, hurrying towards the exit. I wasn't sure what came over me—perhaps it was a desire to push the thought of Tabatha from my mind—but I reached out and grabbed her by the arm. Father had been teaching her to handle a sword, and she'd become quite good at it, but she was still a small thing, barely taller than my shoulder. I looked over at her and saw that she was trembling, still staring anywhere but at me.

"Don't," I said firmly, pulling on her arm so she'd be forced to look at me. Her blue eyes were opened wide, and I thought I could just see tears forming there. "Are you afraid of me?" She shook her head slightly, drawing her hands up to her chest. Suddenly, I felt the need to kiss her...

Swooping down to her height, I pressed my lips against hers forcefully, pulling her into my chest and lacing my fingers through her blonde hair. She melted against me with a soft whimper. I had known for a while the feelings she had for me. It was time to act upon those feelings. She didn't even resist when I guided her over to the bed and began to unlace the back of her dress. It fell to the floor in a crumpled heap, and I had not one thought of Tabatha.


	47. Battle Cry

Tabatha's POV

The next morning, a small voice whispering my name woke me from my slumber."Tabatha," it came again. Slowly, I opened my eyes to see an angelic face surrounded by a halo of blonde curls above me.

"Isabelle!" I cried out, jumping out of my cot and wrapping my arms around her.

"Tabby! Oh, I'm so glad you're back! How I have missed you!" she replied, returning my hug in earnest. I pulled away from the hug to examine her. My gods, how she had changed. Gone was the fullness of youth; it had been replaced by the leanness of a warrior. And it looked very good on her.

"You look wonderful, Isabelle," I said, sitting on the cot and motioning for her to sit beside me. "What has happened? You look so different."

"Ah, much has happened," she said softly, musing about the past. "I found myself staying close to Braeden. He was so kind to me after you left. And we'd already spent so much time there already; it only made sense to stay. He taught me how to handle a sword and ride a horse. I can never thank him enough for the kindness he has shown me." I nodded slightly; those months we spent in Surda seemed like an eternity ago. I watched her for a moment before coming to a realization.

"Are you sure it was Braeden you were staying close to?" I asked quietly, a small smile playing upon my face.

"Oh, Tabatha," Isabelle whispered, her face beaming. "Miles…I think I've fallen in love with him. He's just so…wonderful. I don't even understand it myself. "

She looked so happy. There was no way I could tell her what had happened last night. "Do you know if he feels the same about you?" I asked. There was nothing I wanted more than for her to be happy. She deserved it, after the sadness she has suffered in her life.

"I'm not sure," she replied softly, a small blush creeping into her cheeks. "We've talked…a lot. And sometimes I feel like he loves me too. But other times, he seems so…distant. Like something is pulling him away, and he can't get away from it."

"Have you ever asked him about it?" I said.

"Never outright, no. He doesn't take hints very well," she laughed. I laughed at that too, because I knew how true that was. Murtagh was the same way…

"Perhaps you should just ask him," I suggested.

"Oh, no, I don't think that's a very good idea," she said, shaking her head sadly. "Not that you're back now."

"What do you mean?" I asked, forcing her to look at me.

"Oh, Tabatha, I am not so naïve as to believe that he isn't in love with you. Nearly every man is in love with you…" This last part she added quietly.

"Isabelle…I…I don't like him like that…there's nothing…" She cut me off quickly.

"It doesn't matter," she said with a smile. "I'll find some way…" She trailed off into her own thoughts before coming back to me a few moments later. "Anyways, I best be going. I'll talk to you later though, all right?"

I nodded, putting on a fake smile and watching her leave. Dear gods, what have I done? It seems that, no matter what, I always end up hurting those closest to me. Sometimes I wish I had stayed in Carvahall and waited out the soldiers and the Ra'zac, and sometimes…oh gods, sometimes I just wish I'd never been born. Maybe things would have been better…

 _'Tabatha, stop it!'_ Amera cut in. _'Listen to what you are saying!'_ Her great, violet head suddenly stuck into the tent. _'You have a destiny to fulfill, and a great one at that. It is your duty to do that, and rid the world of your father's evil.'_

 _'Well, what if I don't want my great destiny? I never asked for this! I never asked for any of it!'_ I yelled angrily. I knew I shouldn't be mad at Amera—she hadn't had a choice in her life either—but my emotions were quickly running away with me.

 _'It matters not,'_ she said solemnly, letting out a heavy snort, _'you were chosen because you have been blessed with great power. You must fulfill your destiny, or the whole world will suffer. Will you really make the entire world suffer for your own selfishness?'_ Her words struck me deeply and I could feel my heart plummeting in my chest. _'Is this what your mother would have wanted?'_

I felt my face growing hot with anger. "How can you possibly know, Amera?!" I screamed out loud. "My mother is dead! I never knew her! And I never will because of my thrice-damned father!"

She stared at me for a moment as I fell to my knees, sobbing. All of my emotions that had built up in me since my time in Uru'baen came flooding out of me. _'Then you must stop him, Tabatha,'_ she said, nudging my shoulder fondly with her snout. _'You must stop him from doing to anyone else what he has done to you. It is your obligation…'_

Slowly, I nodded. _'You're right, Amera. I know you're right. I just don't know if I can handle all this responsibility. It's crushing me…'_

Amera suddenly pushed her head underneath me and pushed me up off the ground. _'That's what I'm here for,'_ she said. _'I'm here to help you carry the load. We're a team, Tabatha. We have to help each other.'_

I hugged her neck tightly, grateful for her companionship. "Thank you," I whispered quietly. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

 _'Come, let's rejoin society. Enough of this solitude! You think too much when you're alone.'_ She made that dragon-like laugh again, causing me to laugh with her. Her personality was so infectious and it was then that I realized I truly loved her. She was like another part of my soul and I could no longer imagine my life without her. As we walked through the camp, we were stopped by complete strangers who just wanted to say thank you. We hadn't even done anything yet and people were thanking us! Now I know how Eragon felt when we first came to the Varden so long ago.

 _'A little anonymity, even for just a little bit, would be nice right now,'_ I said to Amera after the fifth person stopped us.

' _That is something that Riders don't get to have, unfortunately,'_ Amera replied.

 _'Ah, but we are not a normal Dragon and Rider,'_ I said, a small smirk playing on my features. _'Asron said so himself.'_

Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I reached deep into the recesses of my mind. I knew that my magic was hidden there. Up until now, I'd been afraid to tap into my power fully. I'd been holding myself back, but now I was ready to reach my full potential. The power welled up inside me, obeying my commands. I felt a warmth wash over me, and when I opened my eyes, my breeches, leather vest and white shirt had been replaced by a worn, drab, brown peasant's dress. My hair was much shorter and a dull, mousy brown color. I hurried over to a nearby barrel full of water to see equally as dull brown eyes and plain features staring back at me. For the first time in my life, I was completely and utterly average…and I loved it!

 _'This is amazing!'_ I exclaimed in joy, twirling around in my dull dress _. 'I don't think I've ever been this happy!'_

 _'That's all well and good for you,'_ Amera said, narrowing her eyes slightly, _'but what about me? There's nothing more conspicuous than a giant, purple dragon!'_

 _'Try it yourself,'_ I said. _'Quickly, before someone sees a peasant girl with a Rider's dragon.'_

Amera closed her eyes, and before too long she began to shimmer and a slight haze surrounded her. I saw her shift and change before my very eyes and become much smaller. Her wings disappeared and her tail shortened, along with her snout. When the haze disappeared, a small, mewling black cat was left where the dragon form of Amera once stood.

 _'Well,'_ she said, turning slowly in a circle, _'how do I look?'_

"Wonderful!" I exclaimed out loud, scooping her into my arms and spinning around.

"Tabatha?" I heard a voice say. I suddenly stopped dead in my tracks and faced Eragon where he stood between two tents in front of me. "Oh, forgive me, I thought…"

I simply stared at him, holding Amera tight in my arms against my chest, somehow believing she could give me away in her cat state. Eragon looked positively perplexed and I almost felt bad for him; but at the same time…I loved this. My best friend since childhood didn't even know who I was, and it was completely satisfying.

"Excuse me, but have you seen a girl with a purple dragon anywhere? I thought I may have heard her somewhere nearby," he said, looking around in confusion. I knew that if I wanted to keep up the ruse, I would need to change my voice. Eragon would surely recognize that.

"Oh no, Shadeslayer!"I said in an absurdly high voice and shaking my head vehemently. "I haven't seen the new Rider yet!"

"Oh…um, forgive me, I'm sorry," he said awkwardly, looking anywhere but at me. "Um, excuse me…good day to you." He gave a gentlemanly bow before scurrying away, his face turning scarlet in embarrassment. As soon as he was out of sight, and I was hoping earshot as well, I burst into uncontrollable laughter. This was too wonderful!

 _'Oh, Amera,'_ I said, scratching her behind her little cat-ears, _'this is amazing. Ah! Wait a moment!'_ I was suddenly struck with an idea.

 _'What is it?'_ Amera asked, looking at me with her green cat-eyes.

 _'That's it! We can use this power to sneak into the city and find a way for the Varden to get in. It's perfect!'_ I exclaimed, spinning Amera in the air.

 _'We'd have to tell Eragon and Saphira and Nasuada if we did,'_ she said matter-of-factly.

 _'Well yes, I know that,'_ I snapped. _'Don't you see? This is the perfect opportunity for us to prove we're on the side of the Varden. Finally, I'll get to use my powers against Galbatorix.'_

 _'Tabatha,'_ Amera said, her voice suddenly different.

_'What is it?'_

_'I do believe...'_ She paused for a moment. _'I think you've had your first battle cry.'_

 _'My first what?'_ I asked in confusion.

 _'Your first battle cry,'_ she repeated. _'It has long been a tradition of the Priestesses of Ashola to cry, sometimes for hours, a few days before a battle. It allows them to clear their heads to make a battle plan. When you were crying in the tent…I think that was it…You've truly become a Priestess now. Just like your mother.'_ I let her words sink in for a moment.

 _'What exactly does that mean?'_ I wasn't really expecting an answer, but Amera, ever-wise, gave me one anyways.

 _'It was said that after a Sorceress had her first battle cry,'_ Amera said, careful and calculated as always, _'that she would unlock aspects of her power she did not know of before, and that she would become extremely powerful in the wake of battle. She would no longer fear, but be feared.'_

 _'You're right,'_ I said, staring into the distance. _'I'm not afraid of my power anymore. I'm ready to use it, and show my father what I can really do; show him we are a force to be reckoned with; show him he will pay for what he's done to me, and what he did to my mother.'_


	48. Revelations

"No, absolutely not," Eragon said defiantly, crossing his muscular arms over his chest, a stern look fixed firmly on his elfen features.

"Well," I snapped impatiently, "it's really not up to you, is it?" I glanced over at Nasuada and found a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth, though she had enough grace to not laugh at him openly.

"She's right," Arya chimed in, much to my surprise. She seemed to constantly be wearing a mask of disapproval, so her agreement caught me a bit off guard.

"Um...thank you," I mumbled, unsure of how to fill in the silence. Eragon looked desperately between Arya and Nasuada, but he found no support there. In this tent full of strong-willed women, he was completely outnumbered. He hung his head, shaking it slightly back and forth. When he raised his head once again, I saw a slight smile plastered there, his eyes crinkled at the corners in amusement.

"It's been so long, Tabby, since we've spent any real time together. But you haven't changed a bit, have you?" I looked at him, feeling the tears welling in my eyes, and I fought viciously to hold them back.

"No, I suppose not," I finally replied. There weren't any words that needed to be said between us. We'd been through so much together; there was no doubt that our friendship was a lasting one; one that could survive anything.

"Well, it looks like I'm outnumbered," he said, throwing his hands up in defeat. "So you better tell us exactly what this plan of yours looks like."

I could hear Amera and Saphira rustling around outside the tent, and the edge of a blue-scaled snout peeked under the fabric. I knew that they were both listening, but I wanted Amera to be right here beside me. Her presence brought me comfort and gave me confidence. "Amera and I...we're different, as you all know," I started out, eyes downcast and taking a deep breath to strengthen my resolve. "We aren't like any other Rider and dragon that's ever been. We have certain...powers. I just discovered this the other day, but we can change our appearance, to make it seem as though we are someone else. If we could utilize this power to sneak in and out of Dras-Leona, it would give us a significant advantage. We'd be able to find other ways in and out, and possibly even open the gates from the inside. What do you think?" I was met with silence and wide eyes, though Nasuada looked more contemplative than anything. It was she who spoke first.

"This is a very dangerous plan, Tabatha," she spoke quietly. After a brief pause that I thought meant she was forbidding me to do it, she continued. "But it could make the difference for us here. I don't see how we can say no." Eragon let out a breath of air and rubbed his eyes wearily.

"I agree," Arya quipped shortly. I didn't expect to get anything out of her, let alone agreement. Her emerald eyes reflected fiercely in the firelight, the shadows lending a stark contrast to her sharp features. She looked almost feline, and the effect was startling. She turned her lion-like eyes towards me and I saw the affirmation there, like she was behind me one-hundred percent. I gave her a small nod, hesitant to have any type of interaction with her. Although I hadn't seen her in ages, there was still a lingering of my dislike for her; I now realized that it was just jealousy at the way Eragon fawned over her when he'd never treated me like that, though he claimed to have the same feelings for me. But I was a different woman now. Uru'baen had changed me, in more ways than one, and the petty jealousy I once had for her didn't seem to matter anymore. None of it did. Becoming a Rider made me into an entirely different person. Even my feelings for Murtagh were starting to fade into the background in the shadow of the great task that lay before me.

_I have to kill Galbatorix._

There was no other option now. He had to die, or I did. I wouldn't live to become his puppet, and the world couldn't survive with him in power much longer. Eragon and I could do it together, I just knew it. Murtagh would be the only obstacle we would have to overcome before getting to Galbatorix. I loved him, more than I know how to express, but as long as he was enslaved to the king, he was a liability. If I could find a way to free him, I would do whatever it takes. But if I couldn't...

"Tabby?" Eragon's voice cut through my train of thought and I snapped back to the present.

"What?" I replied dumbly. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Nasuada was asking how long you and Amera would need to prepare." There was a concerned look on his face, but I gave him a slight reassuring nod.

"Within the week," I replied. "I want to hone these abilities before putting them into action. But we'll be ready." I gave Nasuada a nod too and she returned with a smile. When she smiled, she looked very much like her father, who I'd only known very briefly. Though he'd accused me of being a traitor, I knew that he was a good man, just trying to defend his people and keep them safe. He was right to distrust me from the beginning. I was just thankful that his daughter was placing her trust in me now.

"Thank you, Tabatha," she said, bowing her head slightly.

"It's settled then," Arya said, coming closer to me and putting a hand on my shoulder. "Let us know when you're ready." With that, she left the pavilion, gliding gracefully through the camp. I saw Amera peek her head around the tent flap.

 _'I assume you heard that,'_ I said to her. She snorted loudly, a little puff of smoke seeping out through her wickedly sharp teeth.

 _'I did,'_ she replied. _'Do you think a week is enough time?'_ She sounded tentative and I had to laugh. A nervous dragon! The thought was too amusing and I couldn't keep my laughter contained. _'Don't laugh at me!'_ she protested, letting out a deep growl in annoyance.

 _'I'm sorry!'_ I replied, still chuckling slightly. _'I'm sorry, but it was funny and you know it.'_ She snorted again and snapped her teeth slightly. _'Yes, I think a week is enough time. You know us, Amera. We'll be fine.'_

 _'I suppose,'_ she admitted begrudgingly. _'Saphira wants to take me flying around the lake. Can I go?'_

 _'I don't think that's a very good idea,'_ I replied warily, coming over and rubbing her snout. _'You could be seen by_ him.' She knew what I meant, but she let out a slight groan.

 _'Please? I want to fly with her so badly. And there's no moon tonight; we won't be seen.'_ I looked out of the tent, and she was right that there was no moon.

With a heavy sigh, I replied, _'Very well. Don't be too long.'_ She nudged my shoulder lovingly with her snout by way of thanks and trotted over to Saphira on the other side of the pavilion, the ground trembling softly beneath her massive paws. Eragon came over to me chuckling slightly.

"That better not have been your idea," I said, punching him lightly on the arm.

"Of course not!" he cried insolently, a look of wounded pride on his face. "How could you even suggest such a thing?"

I cocked an eyebrow at him and he finally dropped the act. "You forget that I've known you for a very long time," I said, punching him again on the arm, a little harder this time.

"No, I haven't forgotten," he replied softly. We bid our farewells to Nasuada and made our way through the darkened camp. The sounds of laughter and voices floated across the warm night air. The sounds of the camp were comforting now, after spending so much time in the forest with Asron. I enjoyed my solitude, don't get me wrong, but it was nice to be around people again. I missed my family terribly, and even though I told Eragon we shouldn't see each other again—that felt like such a long time ago—things were different now.

I had a dragon, and I'd met my father face-to-face. That was what had really cemented it for me. Seeing him and how he really is, I knew that I had no other choice. And Amera...she changed everything most of all. Eragon and I were linked now; we were Riders—the most powerful people in all of Alagaesia—and we had to work together to accomplish our common goal. I felt like I was finally becoming who I was meant to be, and I really had Eragon to thank for it. After all, if it wasn't for him finding Saphira's egg and all that, I probably wouldn't be here right now. I heard the air buffeting above us with my keen senses and looked to see Amera and Saphira soaring overhead.

"They are beautiful, aren't they?" I mused quietly to myself, watching them climb ever higher and higher with powerful strokes of their wings. Soon, they faded into darkness without the light of the moon to reveal them. I was glad of that. I knew Murtagh and Thorn often spent the nights sitting upon the city walls, and I still didn't want him to know about Amera. It just felt like...a betrayal. I would officially be fighting against him—not just the Empire—but him personally. I tried to separate my feelings for him from my duty, but we were entwined. There was an unseen magnetic force that drew my eyes up to the walls of Dras-Leona and, sure enough, there they were. Thorn's massive form draped casually over the wall, his brilliant ruby scales dimmed in the darkness, and the shadowy figure that was ever by his side. Eragon noticed my gaze and followed it.

"I'm sorry, Tabatha," he whispered, turning back to me. I stopped mid-step and stared at him, still trying to get used to his altered features. We'd had such little time together before I had been kidnapped that I felt like there was a part of him I didn't know anymore.

"For what?" I replied, cocking an eyebrow.

He paused, calculating his words carefully before continuing. "I can't imagine how you must feel. This must all be so confusing for you. But you know I'm here for you, if you ever want to talk, right? We're still best friends, you know." He smiled slightly, trying to lighten his serious tone. I didn't know what to say. He was right that there was no way he could imagine how I was feeling, and I had neglected to mention Evander purposefully. I didn't even fully understand where he fit into my life anymore.

"Thank you, Eragon," I finally replied, deciding it was safer not to say anything more on the subject. "You're a good friend; the best, actually. But I'm fine, really. I...I've moved on." I knew immediately that he had seen through my lie, but I didn't care. I just couldn't bring myself to talk to him about any of those things. There was a part of me that felt like he still viewed me as the child I used to be, before the Ra'zac or dragons or the Varden had ever happened to us. But I wasn't a little girl anymore, and I'd done things...things I'm not proud of. I didn't want to taint his perception of me.

"While you were in Uru'baen..." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "Did you...see him much?"

"I did," I said shortly, hoping not to give too much away. "Though we didn't speak much. I..I didn't want to, to be honest. I spent a large portion of my time there believing that he had betrayed me; that he had attacked me and brought me straight to Galbatorix. But I soon learned that it was my brother who had kidnapped me, and Murtagh was being forced to serve the king the whole time. There was a time, a short time, that he was in control of himself, and he helped me escape. I will be forever grateful for that." This last part I said more to myself, but Eragon nodded slowly in understanding.

"Is there any of his old self still in him?" he asked slowly, and I think he dreaded any answer that I might give.

I took a long time to answer, but when I did, I was as honest as possible. "A bit, but not very much." This seemed to affirm what he thought, but I quickly explained. "I just mean that he is changed, which is to be expected. Think of what happened to you, Eragon, when Saphira hatched for you. And I know for myself that I am a completely different person than before Amera and I became linked. Becoming a Rider changes you, sometimes for the better...sometimes for worse. But he doesn't have a choice. Galbatorix discovered his true name and is using it to control him. It might have been any one of us; it just happened to be Murtagh that Thorn hatched for. He is a different man, but that does not mean that he is a bad man." He dwelled on this for a moment before looking skyward; I assumed he was looking for our two dragons.

"Yes, I suppose you're right," he finally said. He looked back over at me, his gaze searching my face for something. "You're still my Tabby, but you're right. You are a different person. I guess becoming a Rider just makes you realize what it is you have to do."

"It does." We continued walking towards the common area where people gathered around the fires, talking and eating and laughing merrily. It was strange to me, that in the midst of this horrible war people could still find joy in each other's' company. I looked around at the faces of the men and women of the Varden, and I realized how far we had all come. This was the closest we had been in a very long time to ridding ourselves of my father's tyranny. I could almost feel the hope and anticipation permeating the air. There was an electric charge underlying the energy of the camp, like we all expected that something earth-shattering could happen at any moment.

As I scanned the faces, I saw Miles and Isabelle standing off to the side by themselves, their heads bent in conversation. She looked happy with that smile upon her face and a brightness to her cheeks; his back was to me but I saw that his posture was relaxed, something I couldn't recall ever seeing. I turned to Eragon and saw that he had a tankard pressed to his lips.

"You don't waste any time, do you?" I teased. He spluttered his ale when he realized I had noticed him, coughing and spewing foam everywhere.

"Ah, well…" He tried to scramble for a response but all I could do was laugh at his embarrassment.

"Find me later, Eragon. We have much more to talk about. Enjoy yourself!" I slapped him hard on the shoulder and made my way towards the couple on the outskirts of the crowd. I had a sinking feeling that this would be one of the last nights of merriment that any of us experienced for a while, and I wanted him to enjoy it as much as he could.

When Isabelle realized I was walking towards them, she jumped away from Miles' side, a blush slowly creeping into her cheeks. Why did she think I cared if she was with Miles? If anything, I was happy for the two of them. Miles turned to look at me, following Isabelle's gaze, and I had to fight the feeling that my heart was dropping into my stomach. Those eyes cut through me, but there was a different ferocity to them now. I wasn't sure but it almost looked like… hatred?

"Hi," I said softly to Isabelle, doing my best to avoid any eye contact with the man who looked so much like the one that I loved.

"Hello," she replied, hands clasped demurely in front of her. I waited for anything further, but it seemed like I wasn't going to get anywhere with these two.

"Do you have a moment?" I asked her, turning my shoulder slightly towards Miles to let him know that he was not welcome at this gathering. If I wanted to be rid of this constant reminder of Murtagh, I would have to treat him harshly. Part of me felt horrible for doing such a thing; after all, Miles really hadn't done anything to deserve it, besides bearing a shocking resemblance to Murtagh. But on the other hand, it was torture for me to even look at him. I was trying to turn over a new lease on my life, and if that meant putting aside my feelings for Murtagh, I would do whatever it took to accomplish that.

"Uh…yes," Isabelle replied slowly, looking between me and Miles. I saw him give her a slight nod in my periphery, and then I felt his eyes upon me, their gaze boring into the back of my skull. I put my hand on Isabelle's shoulder and led her away as quickly as possible. She looked back over her shoulder and gave him an apologetic shrug, but I paid her no mind. I just needed to get away from him as fast as I could.

We went to the other side of the common area and away from all the people, back towards Nasuada's pavilion. "Tabby?" she asked in a concerned voice. "Where are we going? What's going on? Are you all right?"

I turned to her when I felt we were sufficiently far away. "Yes, Isabelle, I'm fine. I just needed to explain something to you, before it was too late," I said, inhaling deeply.

"Well, if you want to explain the horrid way you just treated Miles, I'd be happy to listen." There was an edge to her voice that I had never heard before, and when I looked into my friends' eyes, they were hard as steel.

"Isabelle, I—"

"No," she cut me off unexpectedly, "you don't get to make excuses. Tabatha… I have given you credit for far too long. But this time, I won't let you use your past as an excuse. You have treated Miles terribly, and don't think that he hasn't told me. You have treated him, someone that I care very much about, in a way that he doesn't deserve. So please, explain that to me."

I couldn't speak out of shock at what had just happened. I'd never heard Isabelle speak that way before, let alone to me, and at first I didn't know how to respond. Once I gained my composure, I continued. "Isabelle, I realize that I have mistreated Miles, and I am sorry for that. But I cannot tolerate his presence any longer. It pains me too much because of… Well, because he reminds me of the man that I love, and the man that I can never have. The way he looks, the way he speaks, the way he acts… I can't do it anymore. I just can't." At this point, the tears were flowing freely down my cheeks, and I thought I saw a flash of sympathy come over her face, but it was gone in an instant.

"So, you shun him because he hasn't done anything? It's just because of the way he looks?" Her tone was incredulous, and I didn't know how to explain it to her.

"My priorities are different now, Isabelle," I started slowly, my voice pleading. "I have to kill my father. There's no other option. And my feelings for Murtagh get in the way of that. I have to forget him, and everything we ever had… or could have, until this is done. Miles is a constant reminder of him, and I can't have those memories always invading my mind and my heart. I know you love him." She balked at that and I realized I must have struck a nerve. "And I'm sorry for what I've done. But I don't know any other way."

She just stared at me for the longest time, and the sinking feeling that I had lost a friend for good began to overwhelm me. "How about you just tell him all of that yourself? Perhaps if you had just been honest with him from the beginning, Tabatha, he wouldn't come to despise you as much as he does now," she spat, her words seeping poison. They went straight to my heart and I felt it drop down into the pit of my stomach.

"I… I don't know what to say," I finally uttered, stumbling over my words.

"Well, that's a first," she scoffed, turning on her heel and striding away, her blonde curls waving wildly behind her retreating form. Just as she was about to rejoin the crowd, she stopped and turned back to me, her eyes searching for something. She took two steps back towards me, but did not come any further. "You were my friend, Tabatha. I was just a weak little girl back then. But I'm not anymore, and you've changed… and I'm not sure for the better. Don't isolate yourself. You'll find it to be a very lonely road from here to Uru'baen." And with that, she turned and left for good this time.

I stood there in shock for a moment, my mouth hanging slightly open. I'm sure that anyone passing by would have thought I'd had a heart attack on my feet right there. There were no words to describe the utter shock I was feeling. That hadn't gone remotely as I had planned, and perhaps it was because I'd underestimated the person Isabelle has become. I knew that what I'd done to Miles was wrong, but I wanted her to understand, so that maybe she wouldn't hate me. I seemed to have done the exact opposite. There was a pain starting to spread in my chest, and I felt the need to sit down. Still somewhat dumbstruck, I shuffled through the camp, eventually finding my way back to my tent. I lay down on my cot and stared up at the top of my enclosure. The shadows of fires outside played on the walls, forming a sort of primal dance.

She was right. I was trying to isolate myself. But I didn't see any other way. I would need to rid myself of any unnecessary emotions to kill my father. Even though he was an evil man, and he had done terrible things in his lifetime, there was still a part of him, however big or small it might be, that lived inside of me. He'd helped to give me life, and I couldn't help but think that I was committing some sort of cosmic sin by taking his away. But another part of me felt that he wasn't a man at all; any remaining human part of him had been snuffed out long ago. All that was left was a twisted soul that knew only hatred and pain. He had to be destroyed. That was the only way. And if I had to lose a few friends along the way… and ones that were more than friends, then so be it.


	49. One Last Time

Eragon came to me not long after that, stumbling into my tent and nearly falling on top of me where I lay on my cot. "Woah! Watch it," I protested, pushing him off me where he had landed precariously close to rather... sensitive areas.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to regain his balance. He ended up settling on the edge of the cot and swung his head around to look at me. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"How much did you have to drink?" I asked, eyeing him carefully. I sat up and leaned closer to him, inspecting his dilated eyes. "I don't think now's a good time."

"No, I'm fine, really," he replied, his speech slightly slurred. I had to stifle a laugh as he swayed back and forth, blinking slowly and heavily.

"Rest, Eragon. We can talk in the morning," I chuckled, patting him lovingly on the shoulder. He groaned slightly and nodded his head, until he suddenly fell over on his side, his face buried in the roughspun blanket that covered my cot. I rolled my eyes and smiled slightly at my friend. "Come on, you." With great effort, I lifted him into the cot and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders. He wouldn't be going anywhere tonight. There was much I wanted to discuss with him, but it could wait until morning.

 _'Is everything all right, Tabatha?'_ Amera's thoughts cut through my mind. She and Saphira were close, I could feel it; possibly circling right overhead.

 _'Yes, everything is fine. I think Eragon may have had too much to drink. He's passed out in my tent,'_ I replied amusedly.

 _'He must have had much too much to drink,_ ' Saphira chimed in. _'When the elves changed him, his strength and stamina were increased. It would take an incredible amount of ale to get him drunk.'_

 _'Maybe he just doesn't know his limits. That or he was divulging in faelnirv as well,'_ I said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. _'Are you two coming back soon?'_

 _'We're circling the city,'_ Amera said, _'trying to get a better understanding of the layout. Don't worry, the Red One has not seen us yet.'_

 _'But he will soon,'_ I said worriedly. _'Please hurry back. It makes me nervous.'_

 _'Don't worry, we're being careful,'_ Saphira said. With that, I felt their consciousness' withdraw from my mind. I was worried that they would be seen by Murtagh and Thorn, but there was nothing I could really do to get them back here. I leaned my head back against the cot and inhaled deeply, closing my eyes. I could feel the tension in my muscles building, and I suddenly felt the need to get away, even if just for a little bit. Reaching under my bed, I pulled out the bundle hidden underneath that contained my Rider's sword, Manin, and the enchanted cloak Asron had given me. These would come in handy when Amera and I snuck into Dras-Leona, but for now, I didn't want to take the chance of losing them or having them be stolen.

I stood up and looped the sword and scabbard through my leather belt and clasped the cloak around my shoulders. The midnight blue fabric swished softly across the ground as I walked through the camp, leaving Eragon sleeping soundly in my tent. The night air had a cool briskness to it, and I pulled the hood of the cloak over my head, simultaneously protecting it from the chill and activating the cloak's magic. I felt the enchantment washing over me and knew that I'd become invisible. The power that resided within me was stirring, and I felt a slight pressure at the back of my head. The air around me began to shimmer and I was seeing things as I had only once before. The ground and plants, and even the few people I could see, began to glow from within, as though I was seeing their very life force. The sight was beautiful, but there was also something very scary about this power of mine. I knew I was different, but sometimes I didn't even know myself what I was capable of.

I could feel Amera's consciousness probing my mind, inspecting what I was doing _. 'What are you up to, young one?'_ she asked. I heard the whoosh of her and Saphira's wings high overhead. When I looked up, I was intrigued to see them glowing brightly, Amera radiating a soft violet light and Saphira emanating the most brilliant blue.

 _'Just looking around, that's all,'_ I replied innocently. She sent me feelings of concern and a warning to be careful. I assured her that no harm would come to me and turned my attention back to the world on the ground. The camp was alive with activity and energy, though many were asleep. Those that were sleeping glowed with a soft, white light that gently undulated with their deep breathing. A field mouse darted across the ground in front of me, its little body glowing a bright yellow that pulsed rapidly with its tiny heartbeat. It disappeared under a tent flap, dulling the yellow light. This new world I was observing was truly amazing. I had no idea that _every_ living creature contained its own energy that was unique to them.

Like before, that same force drew my eyes toward the walls of Dras-Leona, and I saw Thorn's huge body glowing a fiery red. I could almost feel the heat from his massive energy field from here. And then I saw something I hadn't noticed before. Residing in one of his saddlebags was a jumble of different colored auras, each of them burning brightly and pulsing in an even rhythm. The more that I stared at this perplexing bundle of energy, the more I couldn't help but think that they looked a lot like the energies of the dragons... I would have to ask Eragon about that later. When I shifted my gaze, I saw Murtagh's form outlined in red as well, though the center was black as pitch. That must be an effect of Galbatorix's hold on him. And that's when I knew what it was that I had to do.

I ran through the camp, making my way closer to the walls. If not for my enchanted cloak, I never would have dared it. As I drew closer, I noticed the guards patrolling the battlements. I thanked the gods above and below for my cloak again, and started searching for a way—any way—up the wall. It seemed like it was hundreds of feet, though I knew that was just my imagination playing tricks on me. No matter how tall the imposing structure was, I had to see him, though it was more than likely the last time I ever would. At least until this whole thing was done. The stolen moments we'd had in Uru'baen just simply weren't enough; and call it greed, but I needed to be near him, one last time.

Reaching my arms high above my head, I dug and wriggled my fingers in between the loose stones, securing my grip before looking for a suitable foothold. The process was slow going, but I finally got into a rhythm and worked my way up the stone wall. As the top came nearer to my fingertips, I felt my breath quicken in my chest and my heart fluttering in nervousness. I only hoped that Galbatorix wasn't controlling him at this moment. My hands finally found flat space and I hauled myself up with one last push of strength…right as an Imperial soldier strolled past lazily. When I bounded to the top of the wall, my footfalls made a slight thumping sound and he stopped mid-step, looking in my direction. I didn't dare to move or breathe, and for a moment I thought I would lose my balance and fall backwards. Although I had survived grievous wounds before, I didn't know what would happen to me after a fall from this height. The soldier narrowed his eyes and took a few cautious steps toward me, searching for any sign of the phantom noises he had heard. I hadn't taken a breath this whole time, and just when I thought my lungs were about to burst, I was saved.

"You there! Soldier! Get back to your post or I'll have you flogged!" the familiar voice cut through the air. The unsuspecting man jumped back in fear, looking to his left where the voice had come from. I turned too and saw the red and black glow striding towards us. Murtagh stopped about ten feet away from me, the shimmer of his aura dissipating slightly so I could more clearly make out his features.

"Ah! Sir, I... I just thought... there was a... " he stammered, the fear evident in his eyes and a sheen of nervous sweat breaking out on his forehead.

"I don't care what you thought you heard or saw," Murtagh growled threateningly, his fists balled tightly at his side. "If there was anything out there, I assure you, my dragon would have noticed it long before your idiotic senses did. Now do as I say, and return to your post!" I'd never heard him use such a tone before, and the effect was truly frightening. With Thorn's added growls in the background, the man let out a tiny squeak of fear and turned quickly on his heel, scurrying away like a rat towards a sewer.

As he disappeared down the battlements, Murtagh watched after him, and I kept my gaze fixed solely on him. He looked thinner than the last time I'd seen him, so many months ago. There was a haggard look to his face, like he hadn't slept in many nights, and his hair and clothes looked disheveled. I'd never seen him like this before, and I could feel my heart slowly breaking.

When the man was finally out of sight, and there was no one else around, Murtagh let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his eyes with a calloused hand, a hand that I so desperately wanted upon me. He sighed again and looked down at the stone beneath him. "You shouldn't have come here," he whispered gently. I felt my heart freeze and my eyes go wide with fear. But, how? "Come on, Tabatha, I know you're there. Come out of hiding."

Slowly, I stepped down from where I'd been crouching atop the wall and removed the hood from my face. His aura suddenly disappeared and I saw his features more clearly. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and a dark stubble covered his chin and cheeks. Though his eyes were still as intense as ever, and they still held the same hold over me, they looked immensely sad. "Murtagh," I sighed softly, unsure of what else to say. "How..."

"I would know your mind anywhere," he said quietly, in that deep, rumbling voice of his. "The moment you returned to the Varden, I felt your presence. Why did you come here, Tabatha? It isn't safe. Galbatorix has been taking control of my mind more and more often lately."

"I needed to see you," I replied, taking a tentative step forward. "And I needed to tell you..."

"About your dragon?" he cut me off gruffly. There was a newfound anger blazing in his eyes, an anger I hadn't seen before. My fears were slowly being confirmed.

"Murtagh, you have to understand. I... This wasn't my choice."

"You always have a choice." His voice sounded small, and almost...defeated.

"I didn't," I repeated, firmer this time. "It's... it's not what it seems, Murtagh. I swear."

"Then explain it to me." His hard stare bored into my own eyes and I felt my resolve weakening slightly. How could I make him understand?

"I didn't want this, you have to believe me," I started slowly. "Not after discovering who my father is… No, I never wanted this. But my mother's people, they were the beloved of the goddess Ashola, and she blessed Amera's egg... specifically for me. There's... there's a prophecy. I couldn't have run from my fate. Don't you see? This is the only way I can defeat my father. And maybe, the only way that we can be together." It was quiet for a long time when I finished. I stared into his grey eyes that seemed to be clouded in confusion.

"We will have to fight one another, Tabatha," he finally whispered, his voice strained. "Your father will take control of me and he will kill you. I won't be able to stop him." Thorn rumbled deeply behind him, staring at me with his huge orange-red eyes. Murtagh's sadness was echoed in their depths, and I felt my heart wrench. He was just as trapped as Murtagh was in this.

"He won't kill me," I replied. "Amera and I...we're different. We are unlike any other dragon and Rider that there ever has been, or ever will be. And besides, Galbatorix won't kill me because he wants to use my power too much. He'd never risk my safety. And especially now that I am a Rider..." I let this last statement fade away, not wanting to draw attention to the similarities between me and my father.

"It's not so simple, Tabby," he said sadly, taking a few steps towards me. "He will torture you and break you down until there is nothing left of your former self. He will discover your true name and then you'll be bound to him forever, as a slave. He bears no love for you, or for your brother. If the green egg had ever hatched for him, like your father wanted, he would be in the same position that I am. Even those who serve him willingly are bound to him by oaths and spells. It is not a life I would wish on anyone, least of all you."

We were close to one another now, mere inches apart. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and I wanted nothing more than to reach out and place my hands on his chest, if only to feel his heartbeat again. I saw the same look in his eyes, like he was holding back from folding me into his arms. "So this is it then?" I asked quietly, wringing my hands slightly over one another in anticipation. "This is how it will end?"

He stayed silent for a long time, his eyes searching my face, as though he were memorizing every line and curve, etching it into his memory. And then he spoke. "It must," he breathed, stirring the errant hairs on my forehead. And I felt my heart shattering. A single tear rolled down my cheek, falling off of my jaw and splashing onto the stones. I seemed to hear the tiny sound like an explosion, all of my sadness and ire pouring out in that one tear. He seemed to jerk in pain, wincing away from me. "You have to go, Tabby. He'll be checking in on me soon. I will try to keep the knowledge of your dragon from him as long as I can, but he will know eventually."

"I know. Thank you." I couldn't say anything else. I knew it would have to come to this, I just didn't know it would be so soon. He seemed to want to say more, but something held him back. Perhaps it was the knowledge that we wouldn't speak for a while, and whatever it was would have done more harm than good. I let out the breath I'd been holding and walked around him, going over to where Thorn was still lying on the wall. He was so huge compared to Amera, and I couldn't help but marvel at his beauty. His ruby red scales glimmered in the soft torchlight, flashing as he moved his head to look at me. His huge eyes held a depth of sadness and pain I'd never seen before. He groaned slightly, the sound emanating from his chest and vibrating the stone beneath us.

 _'I'm sorry,'_ I said, placing a hand on his snout, reveling in its warmth. He pressed his enormous snout into the starburst pattern on my hand, just like Amera had when she had first hatched. I felt his consciousness pushing on my mind and I allowed him access. He conveyed the greatest feeling of sorrow on me that I had ever experienced, and I felt that the weight of his grief might crush me. It actually caused me to stumble a little bit. Murtagh was right there behind me to catch me as I fell.

 _'I am sorry too, little one,'_ Thorn replied, blinking his eyes slowly. His voice was deep and rich, but colored with pain. _'I am sorry that all of us are having to go through this.'_ Murtagh looked up at him, the love they bore for each other evident in his eyes. He nodded slowly, placing a hand on the other side of his snout, and I was suddenly very sad that Amera was not here too. I heard her wings swishing through the air high up above, along with Saphira's, and I reached out to her.

' _Are you there, Amera? Are you seeing this?'_ I asked.

Her familiar consciousness entered my mind. _'Yes, I see you. I do not think it is a good idea for me to join you though,_ ' she said, knowing my thoughts as she always did.

 _'Nor do I, but I wanted you to see this,'_ I replied.

 _'I know, young one,'_ she said sadly, echoing my pain. She withdrew from me and I looked back at Murtagh. His eyes were turned on me now, and I couldn't help but think that he had been thinking the same thing.

"You must go, Tabatha. He'll be here soon. I don't know what he'll do when he finds out I saw you. But I would prefer it if you were far away when that happens," he said softly, reaching out a hand and stroking my cheek gently where the tear had fallen. He traced its path down to my jawline and placed his thumb and forefinger on my chin, angling my face towards him.

"Murtagh..." I breathed, not knowing what else to say. He silenced me with his lips, pressing them gently against my own. I closed my eyes and let myself get lost in this one moment, savoring every touch I could get of him. When I cracked my eyes open, I could once again see the auras around me, his and Thorn's red ones shining brightly in the dark night. But then I saw my own aura, a deep royal purple, floating out in front of me. Its tendrils stroked at the air, little glimmers of white light fading into the darkness off of the bands of energy. And finally, it latched onto Murtagh's, entwining itself with the red, and seeping down into the black. His eyes flew open, and I knew that he could feel it too. We looked at one another for a moment, our breathing heavy. And then our lips met again, harder this time and with a greater sense of urgency, my aura pushing deeper into the blackness that surrounded his heart. At that moment, I felt like we were one soul, split between two bodies. My energy was permeating into his, but his was also joining with mine. We were together, truly and deeply, and it was the most surreal and incredible experience of my life. But as with all good things that happened in my life, it had to come to an end.

Slowly, we pulled away from each other. His hand left my cheek and I immediately missed its warmth. The sadness in his eyes deepened as he took a step back. "I love you, Tabatha," he breathed quietly. "I have never loved anyone as I have loved you. I am sorry for everything."

I didn't know what else to say. There was so much that I wanted to let out, but I couldn't formulate the words. "I love you too," was all I could think to say, and it seemed to be enough. He gave a small smile, stroked my cheek one last time, and then stepped away.

"You should go." I gave him one final nod, and then walked back towards the edge of the wall. I peered over the side, paling slightly at the steep drop before me. Swinging one leg after the other onto the top of the wall, I gave him one final glance.

"We'll be together when this is done, Murtagh. I swear it." And with that, I edged my way down, finding the sporadic footholds and handholds, until my feet finally touched solid ground again. When they did, I felt the buzzing and spinning in my head stop. I had done it; I had seen him one last time. That was what I had needed, and though I mourned for the loss, I knew that I would be able to make it now. I could clear my head and focus on the task that lay before me. I would defeat my father, and my brother, and I would free Murtagh and Thorn, no matter the cost.

 

* * *

 

I had pulled my hood back up over my face to reenter the encampment, making sure to dodge any passersby that unwittingly almost ran straight into me. There was a flash of violet and blue scales as Amera and Saphira landed on the other side of the camp, their enormous bodies causing the ground to shudder. When I got back to my tent, Eragon was still fast asleep, and I didn't have the heart to wake him to reclaim my cot, so I decided to let him be. He probably needed the sleep desperately. I continued walking through the deserted camp, inspecting the auras of the living beings around me. I found it interesting that the auras of the sleeping people were all white, but I supposed it made sense. Sleep was the time that we were at our most peaceful, and white was the only color I could attribute to that feeling. As I went from tent to tent, I saw a soft yellow glow coming from the end of the camp, and I immediately knew who that was.

I went up to Nasuada's pavilion and pushed the fabric of her tent back, simultaneously taking off my hood to reveal myself. She jumped at the sight of me, placing a palm on her chest. There were still lingerings of her aura visible, and I could see it pulsating rapidly with her heartbeat. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Tabatha! You nearly scared me half to death!"

"Sorry," I shrugged sheepishly. Her guards outside the tent seemed equally as surprised to see me, as they all rushed in, their weapons drawn.

"No," she barked, holding up a hand, "put down your weapons. This woman is no threat to me. Besides, if she was, Elva would have sensed it long before any of you." I cocked my head at her in wonderment, before a tiny shadow shifted by her side. I looked down to see a child hiding behind her skirts, as it would with its mother, though it was clear to me that this was certainly not the case. The child's skin was pale and sickly looking, her hair dark and falling in waves over her shoulders, but what struck me most were her eyes: they were a piercing violet, just like mine.

"And who's this?" I asked, tilting my head to try and see her better. She stuck her head out and eyed me cautiously.

"This is Elva," Nasuada replied, gazing down at her tiny form. "She is my bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" I asked incredulously. "But how can that be? She's just a child!"

"I am no child." The voice that pierced the room belonged to an older woman, its tone dark and full of the pain of life experience, but I was almost sure it had come out of the child's mouth. I gazed at her quizzically, and she just stared back blankly with those unsettling eyes. I wondered if that was how I looked to other people, though no one had ever said as much to me.

"You are a strange little creature, aren't you?" I said, peering down at her still, though I wanted very much to look away. But I found myself transfixed by her violet stare.

"Eragon unwittingly laid a curse upon her when she was just a baby, back in Farthen Dur," Nasuada explained, turning her gaze back to me. "She is endowed with certain… strange abilities." I could tell she was treading lightly with her words, though I wasn't sure why. And why had Eragon never mentioned this to me before!

"And what abilities would those be?" I asked, the question directed at Elva herself.

"You are an odd one too," she responded, completely ignoring my question. I flinched back a bit in surprise at her voice, its edge as sharp as a knife. "I have very mixed feelings about you. I do not perceive you as a threat right now, but I feel that you will bring great sorrow to those that you love, and soon." I paled at her words, not really knowing how to respond. What could I say to that?

"Come now, Elva, let her be," Nasuada chided this woman within a child's body. "You obviously came here for a reason, Tabatha. What is it I can help you with?" I took my time answering her, still trying to shake the unsettling feeling the witch-child was giving me.

"I, uh… I just wanted to talk to you a little more about our plan to enter the city," I finally stammered out. "But it can wait until the morning. I've suddenly realized I'm very tired. Good evening to you." I bowed abruptly and left the tent as quickly as I could, just trying to escape the foreboding feeling that hung over the pavilion.

As I rushed back to my tent, not really caring where I was going to sleep tonight, I felt Amera's consciousness pressing gently at the back of my mind. _'Tabby,'_ she said, her voice like a whisper, _'you'd better come here quickly.'_

 _'Is everything alright?'_ I asked, dread suddenly filling my heart.

 _'I don't know,'_ she replied quickly. I found her at the edge of the camp, staring out over the flattened land, her large head poised erect and her body perfectly still. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought she was a statue.

 _'What is it?'_ I said, coming to a stop at her side.

 _'Look.'_ I followed her gaze over the grasslands, but it was difficult to see in the darkness of this moonless night. I reached into the back of my mind to siphon a little of my power. Suddenly, a form started to take shape, the aura surrounding it a pale green, like that of the soft grass in the meadow outside of Carvahall where Eragon and I had once met every day. The man—for I could tell now that it was—came closer, striding towards the camp purposefully. As he drew closer, Amera let out a threatening growl. The way he walked, there was something somewhat familiar about him…

With a gasp, I suddenly realized who it was. My suspicions were only confirmed when he entered the light from the torches encircling the camp. The breath caught in my throat, and I could think of nothing to say, I was so in shock. Nothing except for his name.

"Evander…"


	50. For the Love of a Princess

I couldn't breathe. Just when I thought that things were starting to change, and I could finally be free to focus on what needed to be done, this had to happen! Evander just stared at me long and hard, his gaze unrelenting and questioning. What did he want me to say? I didn't even know if I was happy to see him. His presence here would just complicate things even further. We continued to stare at each other, Amera sitting silently by with her piercing silver eyes scanning for any hint of danger.

 _'Is this the man from your father's court?'_ Amera asked me, a low growl escaping from deep within her chest. She had seen a few of my memories of him, but I'd done my best to push those deep down inside.

_'Yes, it's the man I was involved with in Uru'baen.'_

She sucked in a deep breath of air. _'What is he doing here now?'_ she snapped, letting out a puff of smoke from her nostrils. Evander looked over at her, his face impassive.

_'I don't know, Amera... I don't know.'_

He looked back at me, his pale green aura pulsing slowly and evenly. "Say something, Tabatha," he finally breathed.

"I can't," I replied, choking on the words. "I don't know what to say."

"Are you not happy to see me?" I stared blankly, trying not to let my emotions betray me. I didn't know what I was feeling, let alone able to describe it to him. He could sense my hesitation, and his face fell, a sadness coming into his eyes. My heart reached out for him, but I could say nothing.

"Evander... Things have changed, I don't... I just can't..." I couldn't form the words to try and explain it to him, so I just went silent.

"It's because of him, isn't it?" he finally said, anger clear in his voice. So he had seen them, there up on the wall…

"No," I replied. "No, Evander, it's because of _her_." I gestured at Amera, her neck straightening slightly. "It's because I became a Dragon Rider that everything changed. My priorities have shifted, and I no longer want the things I thought I did. I hope you can understand that."

"But even when this is done," he continued, shifting his piercing gaze up to my eyes, "you will go to him, won't you? After everything we've done and been through together, you will choose him over me. I gave up everything for you, Tabby. I escaped Uru'baen and your father, and I gave up my lands and title, so I could come here, not only to help the Varden, but for you too. Does that mean nothing?" He was yelling in full force now, his harsh words echoing across the flat landscape.

"Of course it does not mean nothing," I said slowly. "I appreciate that you came here. But whatever you were looking for, Evander... I am sorry, truly I am, but I cannot give it to you. I thought that I loved you once, but now I know that I was using you in anger towards Murtagh, and I beg your forgiveness for that. I deceived you, and I am ashamed, but I won't deceive you any longer. I'm trying to make amends now, but I understand if you never forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me if I was in your position. I am sorry you came all this way to hear these words, but I can't lie to you anymore. I'm done lying, and I'm done hiding. I've got to kill my father, Evander, and I have to be free of distractions to do that. I'm sorry—"

"Enough," he cut me off, tightening his fists at his side. "I don't want to hear anymore. I thought you were different, Tabatha. But it's become abundantly clear that I was very wrong." His words stung, but I knew they were true. I had changed a tremendous amount since I'd left him last in the citadel at Uru'baen, and I now realized what a selfish little girl I had been. I wasn't the same person he'd fallen in love with, and I couldn't change what I felt. His face betrayed the depth of the hurt he was feeling, and I only continued to feel worse.

"I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing," I finally said before he could cut me off again. I didn't wait to hear his response; I just climbed up into Amera's saddle and let her catapult us off the ground. I was extremely grateful for that; I didn't know how much more I could take today. I had lost three people I cared about now, and I had a feeling I wasn't done destroying my life yet.

 

* * *

 

As the morning sun peeked over the horizon, Amera landed in a grove of trees just outside of the Varden's encampment. I jumped off her back and landed in the soft grass. The birds were just waking up and singing their daily songs as the first rays of daylight cut through the trees. If I didn't know what was going on out there in the world, I would have thought this was the most peaceful place. But I did know what was going on out there, and all I could think to do right now was cry. But I didn't. I had run away from my problems, for a short time, and I wasn't going to make it even worse by crying about them.

 _'What are we going to do, Amera?'_ I said desperately, plopping down in the grass.

 _'We will do what we must, Tabby,'_ she replied wisely, curling up behind me so that I could rest my back on her side. _'You did the right thing, though, by telling him the truth. In time, though he may not think it now, he will come to realize that you are really doing him a favor.'_

 _'Am I though?'_ I responded sardonically. _'Am I doing anyone a favor by alienating those that I care about? Or am I just hurting myself in the end?'_

_'The light-haired-two-leg was right when she said that it will be a long and lonely road to Uru'baen. But I think that it must be. The king will only use those that we love against us, and we can't let that happen. So we must distance ourselves, for their protection.'_

_'You are very wise beyond your years, Amera,'_ I said, laying my head back against her scaly body. She grumbled a bit in the odd dragon-laugh that she had.

 _'I am far older than you think, little one,'_ she replied, nudging my shoulder slightly with her snout. _'My egg has been in existence far longer than my red brother and blue sister, and my consciousness has been there the whole time. I have seen much and more of this world than they have through the eyes of the sorceresses that cared for me inside my egg. And then there was that strange old man in the forest... His thoughts were quite odd, but I enjoyed the time that I was in his care. After all, he brought me to you, the one I have been waiting for my entire life.'_ I placed a hand on her huge head and leaned into her.

 _'I'm glad you waited for me, and I'm thankful to Asron as well. I am just happy that I have you with me to get through this, Amera. I don't think I could have done it alone.'_ She hummed pleasantly, sending vibrations through my whole body, and nudged me again. We stayed like that for a long while, so long that I lost all track of time. The sun was mid-way through the sky before I stood up and stretched my arms over my head.

 _'We'd best be getting back,'_ Amera said, letting loose a ferocious yawn that bared her razor sharp teeth. _'They'll be wondering about us.'_

 _'Yes, I suppose so,'_ I agreed reluctantly. I wished with all my heart that we could just stay here in this peace and serenity, but that was just a ridiculous hope that I knew could never be. I climbed back up into Amera's saddle as she stretched out her massive wings, their scales and thin membranes glittering in the morning sunlight. Her powerful legs pushed off of the ground, and the mighty beat of her wings propelled us higher and higher into the air. The ground receded below us, until I could no longer make out any details of the trees or the grass, and we were enshrouded in the clouds. _'Everything is so beautiful up here,'_ I mused softly, taking in the sight of the fluffy white clouds and the clear air above them. It was getting colder the further that Amera climbed, but I didn't really care.

 _'It is a good place to come to clear one's head,'_ Amera replied. _'Nothing to dull the senses or distract your thoughts.'_

 _'We should get back to Eragon and Nasuada,'_ I said reluctantly, not wishing to leave this place. She hummed slightly in response and angled her amethyst-colored wings downward, pitching us to the right and hurtling us back down to the ground. She folded her wings behind me and we picked up speed, the green earth rushing towards us at an alarming rate. I let out a joyous cry, relishing in the feeling of my adrenaline pumping. When it seemed it was the very last second, Amera flung her wings open, letting them catch the wind and slowing us to a halt. We landed on the ground with a resounding thump that sent shudders through the ground and caused several people of the Varden to glance over in our direction in alarm.

I could not help the uncontrollable laugh that came over me. I knew my life had never really been in danger, but the thrill of it... It was amazing! _'Thank you, Amera,'_ I said, rubbing her snout lovingly. _'I needed that.'_

 _'I know, young one,'_ she replied, pushing her head into my stomach and nuzzling it gently.

 _'I'm sure Murtagh will have seen us, but I bet Galbatorix knows about you already. There's no point in hiding it anymore, is there?'_ She shook her massive head back and forth slowly.

 _'No, I don't think there is. He would have found out about us on the battlefield anyways,'_ she said. She was right, I knew, and I knew that Murtagh would never purposefully betray me. But it hurt all the same to know that Galbatorix will have found out about us from him. I could only hope that he did his best not to give too much away.

 

* * *

 

Murtagh's POV

_The night before…_

Tabatha disappeared over the wall into the darkness and I let out the breath I'd been holding in. It hurt to watch her leave, but we both knew it was for the best. Her words echoed in my head. _We'll be together when this is done, Murtagh. I swear it_. Smiling sadly to myself, I went back over to where Thorn was lying across the wall. She didn't know what that was going to take, to break me of Galbatorix's hold, and I feared that if it came between the choice of destroying her father or saving me… It was going to break her, and there was not a damn thing I could do to stop it.

 _'If anyone can find a way, it will be that girl,'_ Thorn tried to comfort me. I sent him feelings of skepticism, and he replied by overwhelming me with a sense of hope _. 'Do not give up hope, young one,'_ he continued, nudging me hard in the shoulder. I looked over my shoulder at him into those huge orange-red eyes, the only ones I could really trust of those around me.

 _'How can I not? When nothing has changed? We've tried, Thorn. And it only brought torture and pain. We are stuck. Galbatorix knows our true names and he will use them to enslave us until the day that we die. Eragon and the Varden's rebellion are doomed. They have seen you, Thorn, and Saphira, and even Tabby's dragon, but they have never seen the like of Shruikan…'_ I let my angry thoughts fade off, feeling myself only growing more heated the more I thought about it. I did not like arguing with Thorn, but sometimes I thought he did not have a very realistic view of our situation.

_'My black brother is large, yes, but he is just as much a slave as you and I. If we could find a way to get him to revolt against the king—'_

_'No,'_ I cut him off sharply. _'Anything we say to him the king will immediately know. I wish it was not so, but we are trapped, Thorn. We are trapped like mice between the cat's paws.'_ The great red dragon let out a deep hum from within his chest, causing the stone wall beneath us to shudder slightly.

 _'It is as the princess said,'_ he continued in his deep, rumbling tones, _'we will find a way. Otherwise she will.'_ I sent him a feeling of closure and he knew I was finished talking about this subject. It was painful enough to think about Tabatha, and all of the hurt we have caused one another, but the fact that her father was constantly in my head only made it worse. The king took a special kind of sick pleasure in watching me squirm when he tortured me with images of her. Sometimes, he'd force me into visions of him torturing her mercilessly, as I stood helplessly by, unable to move. Those were the worst times, and I could only bear it and not say a word. If I ever did try to protest, he would hurt Thorn, attacking him with his sick and twisted mind, and that I could not bear. I loved Tabatha, but Thorn was another part of my soul. We were linked; when he felt pain, so did I, and we had to do whatever it took to protect each other.

As I continued staring over the wall, I looked through Thorn's eyes and saw Tabatha standing there at the edge of the camp, her violet-scaled dragon standing nearby. And there was a man with them, coming from the north… _That bastard!_ It was that slimy count that had tried to steal her away from me in Uru'baen. Thorn growled next to me as I withdrew from the sight and pounded a clenched fist angrily against the stone.

 _'What in the hell is he doing there?'_ I protested hotly.

 _'I would assume he has come to win back the princesses' affections,'_ Thorn replied. I glared at him out of the corner of my eye.

 _'You're not helping,'_ I grumbled. He rolled his shoulders in a sort of dragon-shrug and ruffled his wings softly. I watched them for another minute before Tabatha mounted her dragon and they soared off towards a grove of trees on the outer edge of Leona Lake. _'Where could she be going?'_

 _'Perhaps he was unsuccessful…'_ Thorn interjected. I could only hope that he was right. I suddenly realized there was a mounting pressure at the base of my skull, and it slowly turned into a dull throbbing.

 _'He's coming!'_ I cried, scrambling to block any memories of Tabatha that I could. I knew it would not hold for long, but I had to try. And then a blazing pain erupted behind my eyes and I cried out. Thorn let out a groan as well, burying his scaled head into taloned paws. _'Stay strong, Thorn,'_ I whispered before Galbatorix's mind appeared in full force.

 _'Rider!'_ he snapped forcefully, sending little shockwaves of pain all over my head _. 'What have you to report?'_

_'Not much, Your Majesty. The rebels have not made any advance in several days, and our forces should be mustered to attack in two days.'_

_'Two days!'_ he roared. _'I wanted those rebels obliterated a week ago. What's taking so long!'_

 _'There has been a sickness amongst the men,'_ I replied stoically, hoping this would be his only gripe. _'It's taken them some time to recuperate. Without our full force, I did not want to risk attacking the Varden in open combat.'_

 _'That's what your dragon is for, boy! Burn them all to a crisp and be done with it,'_ he growled threateningly.

 _'Yes, Your Grace. It will be done.'_ I remained silent, hoping he would simply leave, but the presence of his mind remained there, stabbing me with sharp pains. The longer he stayed there silently, the more my fear grew.

 _'There's something you're hiding from me,'_ he spat venomously, his tone like the sharp edge of a knife. I tried to prepare myself for the onslaught of pain that was to come, but I could not have prepared myself for the depth of his fury. He tore through my mind, battering at my protective walls until they crumbled and fell, releasing my memories to his waiting, greedy hands. I cried, for the pain and for the betrayal. Every memory of Tabatha I had locked away was laid out there for his prying eyes. He laughed with scorn when he saw the memory of me kissing her in the grove to get her to shut her stupid, beautiful mouth. He twisted my mind with pain when he saw me giving her the bracelet, the one my mother had taught me to make. And he took delight in my pain at the memory of seeing her with him, that stupid Count Evander. I sank to my knees upon the stone wall, burying my face into my hands and screaming, trying with all of my might to stop him. When he found the memory of the glimpse I'd caught of her purple dragon, he stopped dead in his tracks. The pain suddenly stopped and I knew that this was only the calm before the storm. Thorn was trying to lend me some of his strength, but I knew that Galbatorix was twisting his mind as well. We were caught.

 _'She…has a…DRAGON!'_ he roared, his fury unlike what I had ever seen. He began to stab my mind over and over again, relentless in his pursuit to cause me harm, the pain welling right behind my eyes until I could take it no longer. An inhuman scream ripped from my throat, piercing the night air. Thorn cried out right along with me, and I crawled over to him, the pain keeping me from staying on my feet.

"STOOOOOOOP!" I screamed aloud, reaching for Thorn's scaly paw. His mind filled mine with pain, and I wept for how helpless we both were. I held onto one of his gleaming, black talons and squeezed, gritting my teeth against the pain. The nails of my other hand dug into my palm, drawing blood that traced across my skin and dripped onto the stone floor, stark splashes of crimson against the gray. The attack lasted for another moment until it suddenly ceased. My eyes flew open as the tears flowed freely down my cheeks, my chest wracked with sobs. Thorn moaned long and mournfully. "I'm sorry," I wept, burying my face into his side. "I'm so sorry, Thorn. I'm so sorry."

 _'You have seen nothing yet, Rider. You will pay for keeping this from me, and so will your dragon,'_ Galbatorix's serpentine voice hissed in my head, deceptively calm. _'As soon as those rebels are defeated and they slink back to their caves with their tails between their legs, I want you back to the citadel. Is that understood?'_

 _'Yes, master,'_ I replied weakly, crying into the stone floor beneath me. He had caught us, and there was nothing I could have done to stop him. When his mind suddenly withdrew from mine and Thorn's, I felt an immense pressure being lifted off my chest. I let out a sigh and rubbed my face viciously with the back of my hand. He had gotten us.

 _'I am sorry, young one,'_ Thorn cried weakly, his voice strained after the ordeal. _'I tried to resist him, but…'_

 _'Do not apologize, Thorn,'_ I cut him off, not unkindly. _'I could not resist him any more than you could. I just wish Tabatha had never come here. Then, at least, she could have remained hidden, and safe. Now I cannot guarantee her safety.'_

 _'We never could,'_ Thorn replied morosely. I knew he was right, but part of me was still trying to protect her. But once she had become a Rider, there was no protecting her anymore. Galbatorix knew her secret, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.


	51. Reconnaissance

Tabatha's POV 

Eragon was in Nasuada's pavilion, along with Arya, the strange witch-child—Elva—and a few members of Du Vrangr Gata. They all huddled about the huge table at the center of the area, leaning over a map of the city.

"What's going on?" I asked, pushing in between Eragon and Arya. I could feel the elf stiffening beside me, her muscles growing tense, and I couldn't help but smirk slightly. Amera's head appeared under the fabric of the tent alongside Saphira's.

"Jeod thinks he may have found a sewer system that we can enter the city through," Eragon exclaimed, never taking his eyes off the map.

"It's going to be our best chance," Nasuada said firmly, leaning on her knuckles over the table. "Tabatha, are you and Amera ready?"

I nodded sharply. "Yes, I think so. This will be better than trying to go through the main gates, and we can do initial reconnassaince to see what our best options will be for attack." I surprised myself with the way I was speaking, but I guessed that was the warrior coming out in me.

"Good," she replied, staring me down with her fierce, dark eyes. "You'll go in tonight. Return by dawn and we'll formulate our final plans. We can't thank you enough, Tabatha, and you as well, Amera. Your presence here may make the difference in the battle to come." Amera snorted and smoke snaked out of her nostrils.

"Happy to help," I replied. Nasuada dismissed us after that and Arya stormed out of the tent, throwing the flap aside forcefully and quite startling the guard that stood watch their by the entrance.

"Wonder what's gotten into her," Eragon mused quietly, watching as she walked away and disappeared between the tents.

"No idea," I replied, coming to his side. "Do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you." He nodded and followed Amera and I all the way back to our tent, waving slightly as people called out to him. He'd become somewhat of a celebrity in my absence, and I was finding it difficult to become accustomed to that. Eragon had been such a shy kid when we were younger, and even just a couple of years ago, when we set out from Carvahall to begin this journey, he wasn't one for fame. But now...well, he seemed to revel in it. I looked over at him out of the corner of my eye, and he was smiling widely as he waved. That was different...

We finally reached my tent and ducked inside. "What's going on, Tabatha?" he asked, taking a seat in the foldable chair that was placed at the end of my cot. I sat cross-legged on the cot opposite him, still getting used to his strange appearance. I felt like I didn't really know who he was anymore...

"I just wanted to talk to you, Eragon. We haven't really seen each other in...well, in a while. We have a lot to catch up on," I replied slowly.

"Of course," he said, gesturing with his hand toward me that I could continue. I picked nervously at a fraying thread in the blanket on my cot, not really knowing where to begin.

"So...what's happened since I left? Well, I guess I didn't really leave. Since I was taken…" I asked tentatively, looking up at him through the curtain of dark hair that had fallen over my face. "You seem...changed."

"As do you, Tabatha. And I'm interested to hear what happened to you after you disappeared from the battlefield. I know it came as a shock to _me_ to see Murtagh not only alive, but a Rider as well. I can't imagine how you felt." I flinched a bit at the mention of his name, but retained my composure.

"Yes, it was a shock. I thought that he was the one who'd taken me, but it was actually Léod, like I told you. He'd lied to me the entire time-"

"He lied to all of us, Tabby," he said, leaning over and placing a comforting hand on top of my own. "What was Uru'baen like?"

"It was huge," I continued. "The citadel itself is bigger than anything I've ever seen. I'm just glad I can help you now, having been inside. It's a bit like a maze; you'll need my help to traverse it when the time comes to attack the city."

"Indeed," he mused quietly, staring down at the ground in thought for a moment. "I'm just glad that Murtagh was able to help you escape."

"As am I."

"Was there anyone else you met in the capital?" I balked at that and hesitated to answer. He sensed my hesitation though and prompted me further. "Who is he?"

"He...well, it's sort of complicated. His father is a count, and he was set to inherit everything-"

"Was?"

"Yes, well...he gave it all up. He's actually...here. I saw him last night, but I told him that there was nothing left for us. I'm not sure where he went, or if he's even still here, but..."

"Why did you refuse him?" Eragon seemed shocked, and I wondered what he thought of me.

"I...Eragon, I... I'm still in love with Murtagh," I whispered. He stared at me for a long moment, unsure of how to respond to that. "But I can't afford to think about that right now. I have to focus on winning this war, just like you do. If there's any chance for us... Well, we can figure that out after this is all over and dependent upon the outcome-"

"It's alright, Tabby, you don't have to talk about it anymore. But you should know something."

"What is it?" I asked. He chewed on his lip, and I could tell that he was choosing his words carefully. I held my breath in anticipation before he looked at me again, his eyes full of hurt and sadness.

"Murtagh, he was our friend, and to you...well, to you he was always more. Well, maybe not always," he said, laughing a bit as I'm sure he was remembering the way we used to fight. "But I found out that he and I are connected in a different way. I know you want to save him, more than anything, but I want to save him too, not only because he was my friend but because...he's my brother."

"Galbatorix told me when I was in Uru'baen. I'm sorry you had to find out that way, Eragon, that your father was Morzan."

"Well, you see, I thought the same for a very long time," he said. "But he's only my half-brother. Our mother, Selena, was Morzan's Black Hand. I hardly believed it myself for a time, until I discovered who my real father was through Saphira's memories." He fell silent and realization suddenly dawned on me.

"Brom," I breathed quietly.

"Yes," he nodded, smiling sadly. "He was my father, and he kept it from me the entire time he was alive." He twisted a ring around his finger, the blue stone flashing brilliantly when it caught the sun.

"That was his?" I pointed at it and he suddenly realized he'd been toying with it. He nodded slightly. I stayed silent for a moment, taking in all of this new information.

"I asked Murtagh not to say anything," Eragon continued. "When he told me we were brothers, that day on the Burning Plains, he also told me Morzan was my father, and I believed him. What cause did I have not to? I asked him not to tell you because I didn't want you to think less of me. It seems he kept his word."

"How could I think less of you, Eragon? You are like my brother. Nothing you say or do could change that," I assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm just glad that part turned out not to be true. But I'm going to help you save him, Tabby. Whatever it takes. I care about both of you greatly."

"I know," I said, cutting him off. He didn't need to say more. "What else has happened?"

He then told me of the many strange things that had occurred in my absence. He explained Elva to me, how she'd been the babe that he'd blessed our first day in Farthen Dur, but his blessing had turned out to be a curse. She was strapped with the ability to feel others' pain, and was compelled to help them outside of her own will. Elva grew at an alarming rate, and was more like a fully grown adult in a child's body. But, just a short time ago, he was able to alter the curse. He couldn't remove it completely, but she now had the power to choose whether to help those in need.

And then he'd explained what had happened at Helgrind, the spire tower that was the Ra'zac's lair. I remember when I first set eyes on it, just outside of Dras-Leona, how I had felt the evil reeking off of it even then. He had gone there, and killed the Ra'zac after they'd kidnapped Roran and Katrina. Sloan was there too, and Eragon had let him go.

"I'm surprised at you, Eragon," I said. "After all that he's done, after everything he's put you and your family through, you let him go?"

"Some fates are worse than death. His eyes had been pecked out, and I sent him to live in Du Weldenvarden with the elves. Katrina and Roran don't know he's still alive, and I intend to keep it that way," he replied firmly. I merely nodded and looked down at the dirt floor of my tent. He then continued to tell me about Roran and Katrina's wedding, and I was sad that I had missed that. Apparently, he was doing fairly well as a soldier. Then Eragon told me about the Rider he'd trained under in Ellesmera, and how Murtagh had killed him and Thorn had killed his golden dragon, though their minds still lived through something called Eldunari. I'd never heard of them before, but Eragon explained that it was the name for a dragon's heart-of-hearts, and that they held incredible power.

"I had no idea there was another Rider," I exclaimed.

"Nor did I, until I met them there in Ellesmera. Glaedr had lost a leg some time ago, and Oromis was weak as well, so they couldn't fight alongside us in the war. He had taught Brom and Morzan as young men, and countless Riders before them. It was a tragedy..."

"Murtagh didn't tell me about that either," I whispered, more to myself than to him.

"Galbatorix took control of his mind and his body to do it. He didn't have any choice," Eragon explained. It still hurt that he hadn't told me any of that. He then showed me his Riders' sword that he'd helped make in Ellesmera, and that he'd named Brisingr. The sword burst into blue flames and sparkled brilliantly against the light.

"It's beautiful, Eragon," I breathed, marveling at the workmanship.

"Well, I had help..." he said sheepishly.

"Was there anything else you haven't told me?" I laughed, amazed at everything he'd been through, although I'm sure he had left a few minor things out.

"No, not really. It's amazing to me as well, when I think on how much has changed since we left our homes," he said, smiling sadly. "It's only been two years. Can you believe it?"

"What?" I exclaimed, looking over at him incredulously. "That can't be! So much has happened; I can't believe it's only been two years. I feel incredibly old already. "

"I've been keeping track," he said, laughing slightly. "You know, our birthdays are coming up soon. In about three months, we'll be eighteen. We should do something to celebrate."

"Ha! Why don't we kill the king? That will be celebration enough for me," I said bitterly. "After what he did to my mother, it's less than he deserves." He fell silent at that, staring awkwardly at anything but me. "Nevermind, Let's not talk about that," I continued dismissively. "We've got a city to sneak into and sack. I need to prepare."

"Of course," he said, smiling and standing to go. When he was at the opening of the tent, he stopped and turned back to me. "It's good to have you back with us, Tabby. Really, it is." I returned his smile and then he slipped out of my tent. When he'd gone, I reached out for Amera's mind. She was conversing with Saphira but pulled away when I called out to her.

 _'Is it time?'_ she asked, apprehension in her voice.

 _'Yes,'_ I replied. _'Let's do this.'_

 

* * *

 

Eragon had argued bitterly until the very end. He wanted to come with me, but I had to keep insisting that Amera and I needed to do this alone. He'd finally relented, but only after much debate and a stern look from Arya had he given in.

"I'll be fine," I assured him one last time, placing both my hands on his shoulders and getting on my tiptoes to plant a brotherly kiss on his forehead. His face turned scarlet and I saw Arya's body go rigid in the corner of my eye. He nodded and I turned away, trying my best to hide the smirk that was involuntarily spreading across my face.

The enchanted cloak was clasped tightly around my shoulders, and I was just about to lift the hood over my head when Angela suddenly appeared before me.

"Good evening, Rider," she said softly, bowing slightly at the waist. There was an amused sort of smile on her face, but I couldn't think what she found so funny at a moment like this.

"And you, Angela," I replied, bowing in turn, though it certainly felt strange.

"I've come to give you something," she said, stepping toward me. She held out a dainty hand, and when I saw what she had, I let out an involuntary gasp.

"Where did you find that?" I whispered, extending my own hand toward her. In her palm lay a dagger, a plain thing with a bone hilt and no adornment whatsoever. The blade gleamed brightly, as though it had recently been sharpened. No one would ever take a second glance at it if it was sitting in the window of a shop, but to me, it was one of my most precious possessions. It was the dagger Brom had given me, so long ago. "I had thought I'd lost it, in the battle of Farthen Dur. How did you find it?"

"I have my ways," she replied cryptically, a gleam in her eye. I slowly took the dagger from her and inspected it carefully. It was just as I remembered.

"Thank you," I breathed quietly, a tear coming into my eye at the memory of the old man.

"That's the bone of a dragon, you know," she continued pointedly. "I have a feeling Brom knew all along, what you would become." I smiled at that, and I had a feeling she was right in that regard.

"Thank you, Angela. I don't know how to repay you." She laughed lightly, throwing her head back and causing her wild curls of hair to flop about her face.

"Win this war. That will be thanks enough." Without another word, she turned and left, the werecat that always dogged her steps darting from behind a barrel and trotting after her.

 _'What a strange woman,'_ Amera mused quietly. She'd transformed into her cat form, and I felt her little kitten body squirming in the satchel around my shoulder. It was humiliating enough for her to squeeze down into the tiny shape of the cat, but to be stuffed into a bag on top of that... Well, let's just say, she hadn't taken too kindly to the idea.

_'I like her. She's odd, to be sure, but there's something about her... I can't put a finger on it.'_

_'Let's get going. I want to get this done as soon as possible,'_ she growled sullenly. I sent her feelings of calm as I pulled the large hood up over my face. The magic of the cloak enveloped me, washing me in a sense of safety. Perhaps the cloak shielded us from more than human sight alone...

I jogged around the wall of the city, keeping close to the stone walls. The main gate was heavily guarded, with soldiers posted on the ground, and above on the wall and in murder holes. They certainly weren't taking any chances. There was Thorn's glowing red aura atop the wall, but I didn't spot Murtagh. Perhaps he was getting some rest, as I knew he needed it. The guards at the gate didn't even flinch as I padded quietly past them, and soon I was around a curve in the wall and out of their sight.

 _'You okay in there?'_ I asked as I felt Amera shifting around.

 _'It's a bit cramped,'_ she grumbled, letting out a tiny meow.

 _'Shh,'_ I chastised. She fell quiet after that. The night was dark, but I'd conjured a werelight to give me some view of the ground beneath me. The red glow cast eerie shadows at my feet. Finally, I came to a place where the earth dipped down into a ditch where a grate was situated at the base of the wall. There it is! The ground was wet, and I slid slightly into the ditch, catching myself on the metal grating. I gritted my teeth in pain against the metal jarring my bones.

 _'Are you alright?'_ Amera asked in concern. I felt her stick her little kitten face out of the pack and gaze up at me with huge violet eyes.

 _'Yes, I'm fine,'_ I groaned, stretching out my arm to loosen the muscles that had suddenly become very tense _. 'I think I'm just nervous.'_

 _'We'll be okay,'_ she assured me with a butt of her head _. 'Just try to be more careful.'_ I sent her feelings of reassurance in my mind and set to work on the gate before me. The hinges were rusty, but they'd been set into place by time and weathering. I pulled hard on the grate, and it rattled and screeched slightly in protest, but did not budge. I tried again, but still, I could not free the grate. Taking a deep breath, I searched through my mind, finding that pool of energy and magic that dwelt in the recesses of my mind. I imagined the power flowing through my body, and then I felt it, the coursing of magic through my veins. It was as though my entire body was on fire, but there was no pain, only energy. I knew that I could do it, whatever I put my mind to, and that thought alone gave me renewed strength. When I opened my eyes, I saw that there was a soft, purple light emanating from my palm. I held my hand up to the hinges and focused all of my energy there. With a loud _crack!_ the hinges burst and the grate fell slack to one side. I pushed it aside and walked through with ease, feeling a new sense of empowerment.

The tunnel was pitch black, and if not for my werelight, I wouldn't have been able to see my hand in front of my face. My footsteps echoed hollowly off the damp stone of the sewer. This must have been an older section of the sewage system, for I didn't pick up any smells. I didn't think it had been used in a while. Or if it had, it hadn't been for sewage. Cobwebs hung down from the ceiling, little droplets of water clinging to their strands as they brushed against my face.

 _'I'm getting a funny feeling, Tabby,'_ Amera said quietly, shifting uncomfortably in the pouch _. 'I don't like it... Something evil lurks here.'_

 _'I know, I feel it too,'_ I admitted, scanning my eyes to try and pick out anything I could in the darkness. But it was too dark, and the air seemed to be closing in around me. Suddenly, the tunnel ended in a sort of alcove with three archways. I stopped and stared, completely befuddled. _'I don't remember seeing this on Jeod's maps. Amera... I don't know where to go.'_

 _'Trust your instincts,'_ she said wisely. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and felt that pool of magic again, willing it to bend to my commands. The power flowed through me and I slowly reached out my mind. An image began to take shape in my mind's eye, and I realized I was looking at the tunnel, though not what was in front of me. The image snaked through endless passageways and through countless archways, until finally ending in a gigantic cistern. There was a rusted ladder on one side of the cylindrical space, and up the ladder was a small wooden door. In the vision, I pushed open the wooden door and found myself in a cellar. My eyes flew open and I suddenly knew where to go. I trotted through the archway on the right, my feet slapping against the wet stone, and followed the path that had been engrained in my mind _. 'I told you,'_ Amera said smugly. I could feel her self-satisfaction and only smirked at the little dragoness. She certainly was a proud little creature.

 _'Yes, yes, you did,'_ I replied impatiently, winding my way by memory through the corridors and passageways. It was strange that the way out consisted of constantly going through the door to the far right, but I trusted my inner sight, and it never led me astray. Finally, I went through the last door, the furthest on the right in a row of seven other archways, and the room opened up above me. Columns stuck up out of the water throughout the space of the room, meeting softly arching supports at the high ceiling. There was a decorative edging on the supports, and the tops of the columns were carved in intricate vine patterns. I wondered who had built this place to put so much care into a place no one would ever see. The stagnant pool of water before me gleamed in the red werelight. For a moment, I could have sworn that I saw something moving beneath the surface of the water, but it was probably just a trick of the light. I walked around the outer stone edge that allowed a small space to walk around the water reserve. It butted right up against the wall, so I had to shuffle sideways to avoid falling in the water. I didn't know how deep it was, but I had no desire to find out.

Holding the werelight aloft, I kept my eyes on the wall, searching for any sign of the ladder I had seen in my vision. When I looked back to see where I had started from, I could only just make out the arch of the door, and I realized I'd only gotten about halfway around the huge, circular room. It couldn't be much further, so I pushed on, shuffling my feet slowly across the damp stone. Lifting my eyes to the coffered ceiling, I spotted the ladder about ten feet to my left and shuffled a little bit faster. Finally!

As I drew closer, my heart suddenly dropped as I realized the ladder ended in a rusted, crumbled ruin about six feet above my head. _'How am I ever going to get up there?'_ I said desperately, staring at the ladder, as though that would solve my problem.

 _'Jump?'_ Amera offered timidly.

 _'It's too high, Amera. I'll never make it...'_ I searched the wall desperately for some way, any way at all to get up there. The bottom part of the wall was covered in damp slime, making it impossible to try and grab hold of it to climb. And I knew from my vision that there was no other way up in this room, and no other way out through the tunnels.

 _'There's only one option, Tabby,'_ Amera said slowly _. 'I have to turn back and fly you up there. I'll just transform into something smaller when you get to the top.'_ I knew she was right, so I reached around to the pack and scooped her warm, soft kitten body into my arms. I couldn't resist the urge to scratch her behind the ear, and she started humming involuntarily. _'Alright, alright! Throw me in the air, will you?'_ I did as she asked, and with a flash of white light, the huge purple dragon appeared before me, flapping her wings slowly and gracefully to remain aloft over the water. She lowered down next to me and angled herself so that I might swing up into the saddle. When I was secure, she stroked her wings downward, causing ripples to run wildly over the surface of the water, and we slowly ascended. The ceiling of the cistern grew closer, and I could see the door at the top of the ladder taking shape in the glow of the werelight.

 _'Right there!'_ I exclaimed, pointing up at it. Amera came up beside the ladder and I clambered off her back, gripping the sides of the ladder tightly. She growled slightly, and with another flash of light and energy, a raven took the place of the dragon. _'Very nice,'_ I remarked dryly. She _cawed_ in response and circled above me as I gingerly climbed the ladder. It rattled and shook with every step that I took, and I thought that it would surely come detached from the wall and I'd plummet down into the water below. But it remained, and I finally reached the wooden door at the top. Slowly, I lifted the door upwards and looked around at the cellar I'd seen in my vision. Amera came swooping up through the door and landed on a very old, dust-covered barrel. There were many barrels, actually, and I thought that we must be in a wine cellar. As quietly as I could, I closed the door to the cistern and stood up straight.

It smelled musty down here, and a fine layer of dust had settled over everything. On some of the barrels, it was thicker than others, and I guessed these to be the older vintages. There were wooden boxes piled up in one corner of the room, and shelves with various tomes and scrolls opposite them. If I hadn't been on a mission, I might have liked to explore this place. But as it was...

The stairs leading up to the next level were coated with dust, and I could tell that no one had been down here in a while. There were no footprints in the dust, and the bannister was covered in spider webs. I treaded carefully, afraid that the wooden stairs would creak when I put pressure on them. Amera appeared by my side, back in her kitten form, and I scooped her back into the bag. There were tiny rays of light coming from the edges of the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs. I could hear faint voices beyond the door, but they sounded far away enough that I knew they were in a different part of the house. My cloak felt as though it was tightening around my throat, and I was finding it hard to breathe.

 _'Are you alright, Tabby?'_ Amera asked in concern.

 _'I don't know,'_ I replied uncertainly _. 'I suddenly feel very nervous.'_ I could feel her apprehension before she spoke.

 _'He won't find us, Tabby. We'll make sure of it.'_ I was continually amazed how Amera seemed to know me better than I did myself sometimes. I sent her feelings of thanks and silently sent up a prayer of thanks to the gods that she was here with me. I didn't know how I could have done any of this without her.

Slowly and carefully, I pushed the door open, the hinges creaking only slightly in protest. It seemed as though the cellar was rarely visited, so it was strange to me that the hinges would be so well oiled. The hardwood floors beneath me were polished to a high shine, and the candles in their sconces on the walls cast a warm glow over everything. The air was warm and heavy here, and the scent of cinnamon and spices wafted from down the hall. The whole place had a very cozy feel, and I suddenly didn't wish to leave. It would be so nice to stay here and relax for a while, perhaps curl up with a good book…

 _'Come on, Tabatha,'_ Amera's voice cut through my thoughts _. 'We can't afford to get distracted. Let's just get out of here.'_ I shook my head, and a haze seemed to clear from my mind at her voice.

 _'Yes, you're right,'_ I replied, moving to my right down the hallway. As I padded along, I noticed a room off to the side where the light was brighter. Looking through the door, I saw this was where the voices were coming from. Men and women milled about, conversing and laughing, eating and drinking various foods and beverages. They all seemed to be having a wonderful, which was very odd to me. Didn't they know what was going on out there? There was a war on, for goodness sake! At least the noise from their party cloaked the noise of my leave taking, and I was able to sneak out the front door.

Outside, the night was as dark as the tunnel. The moon was covered by thick clouds, and in the distance, thunder rolled in ominously. I looked around at the black buildings and tried to gain my bearings, calling Jeod's many maps and prints to mind. Finally, I figured that I was close to the center of the city, where a large fountain was erected in Galbatorix's image. From here, I'd need to head south, to my right, to get to the city gates. As I headed that way, I couldn't help but think at how ironic this whole situation was. I remembered the last time I'd been near Dras-Leona, before I'd met Murtagh and everything had changed, I hadn't wanted to go into the city. The smell had been unpleasant enough from a distance, and yet here I was, sneaking around its streets in an effort to help the resistance. It was amazing how time could change so many things.

As I padded silently down the cobbled streets, I could see a few figures glowing brightly with their auras of varying colors. Those were the soldiers patrolling the streets, but none of them ever had any inkling that I was there. I silently thanked Asron again for his gift of the cloak. Thorn's massive form came into view, but still, Murtagh was nowhere in sight. I only hoped he was somewhere fast asleep, if only that he wouldn't sense my mind.

 _'We're almost there,'_ Amera remarked, looking through my eyes at the city around us. The high walls of the city curved slightly ahead, and when we came around the curve, I saw the clustered form of many glowing auras, all gathered round the main gate into the city. Torches glowed brightly and horses whinnied restlessly in the shadow of the great red dragon. I guessed there to be at least a hundred of them, if not more. It seemed a bit overkill, especially with a dragon guarding the gate as well, but I supposed Galbatorix wasn't taking any chances. After the disasters at Belatona and Feinster, he couldn't afford to lose Dras-Leona, the second-largest city in all of Alagaesia.

The soldiers milled about aimlessly, obviously not too terribly concerned with any sort of attack tonight. And, damn them all, they were right. If we were going to take the city, we'd need the element of surprise on our side. But how? We could always lead a small garrison through the tunnels, but it was too cramped for any more than twenty. A force that size would be woefully ineffective against the Imperial soldiers stationed here, let alone Murtagh….

Amera suddenly squirmed out of the bag and dropped onto the wet ground with a quiet _thump_. _'Amera,'_ I hissed _, 'what are you doing?'_

 _'I'm going to get a better look,'_ she replied nonchalantly with a flick of her tiny tail. Before I knew what was happening, she was padding off towards the soldiers stationed at the gate.

 _'Wait! It's not safe. Amera! Get back here!'_ She only ignored me, continuing toward the men. I ran after her as quietly as I could, and I only hoped the soldiers were too concerned with themselves to hear my footsteps crashing on the stone.

 _'I just want to see what we're up against,'_ Amera said, staying just a few steps ahead of me. I slowed and picked her up in my arms, shielding her again beneath the cloak.

' _We have to be careful, Amera,'_ I explained. _'We can't take the chance of being discovered.'_

 _'Then don't be.'_ She had a smart mouth on her, and I couldn't help but think that I'd taught her that.

 _'Certainly,'_ I replied sarcastically, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. We inched closer to the soldiers, and I felt my pulse quicken in my veins, my power washing over my body to help me be ready. Slowly and carefully, I weaved my way in between them, trying my hardest to avoid making any contact. They stood in clusters, for the most part, talking and laughing loudly. I noticed their weapons, but didn't see anything remarkable about them. As I neared the gates, I saw that the soldiers here were quieter, eyes shifting nervously towards the looming black monstrosity that was the gates of Dras-Leona. And there at the very front stood a garrison of soldiers that stood completely still in a perfectly rectangular formation. It was actually unsettling how still they were, I wondered if they were even breathing. And then a memory came back to me.

Eragon had told me about Imperial soldiers that Roran had encountered in the south that had been enchanted so that they felt no pain. They could endure grievous injuries and still continue to fight, until their heads were lopped off. I wondered if these soldiers had been enchanted as well, and I shuddered at the thought. What would it be like to fight an enemy that felt no pain? It would certainly be different, and they would be a formidable enemy. The group stood stoically staring forward, and there was an unsettling feeling taking over me.

' _Amera, we should go. I don't like this,'_ I said nervously, my eyes shifting around. Thorn moved his weight up above and his face was suddenly turned toward us. I could have sworn that he looked straight at me for a moment, but his head soon turned to look back out over the Varden's camp.

' _Yes, let's do that,'_ Amera replied. I could tell that she was getting the same feeling. The auras of the soldiers near the gate were a muted brown, and I knew it was because Galbatorix had placed spells over them. It never ceased to amaze me the lengths he was willing to go to in order to win this war.

I turned away and slipped back through the soldiers as quickly as I could, taking care not to touch any of them. They never suspected a thing, and I breathed a sigh of relief when the sounds of their voices faded away. I suddenly felt a presence pushing on the barriers around my mind, and a pang of fear shot through my chest. If it was Murtagh, I didn't know what would happen if he discovered I was here. If he was being controlled by my father right now… I couldn't think about that, I just had to run. I had to get out of here as soon as possible.

The nobleman's house came into my view, and I slipped around the side to the back garden, discovering a more discreet door to enter through. The pressure came again, harder this time, and I gritted my teeth against the slight pulse of pain.

' _Hurry, Tabatha,'_ Amera pleaded.

' _I am!'_ Suddenly, white hot pain blinded me as my defenses fell and I was filled with the presence of another mind. I dropped to the floor of the kitchen I'd come through, using every ounce of my strength to keep from crying out.

' _You can't hide from me forever,'_ a voice said, sounding like the hissing of a snake. ' _I will find you, and when I do, I'll make you serve me, just like your lover, the son of Morzan. You can't resist me, Tabatha. You'll join me eventually, and when you do, I'll finally squash that pitiful resistance.'_

 _'I won't join you!'_ I screamed, tears squeezing between my shut eyelids. ' _With every last ounce of my strength, I will fight you, until the very end.'_ My father let out a sinister laugh and then his mind was suddenly gone. I shot up off the floor and ran to the cellar, terrified that soldiers would be coming for me any moment. I dropped down into the cistern and headed back out the sewer system. I couldn't think why my father had let me go, but he was up to something. And I had a terrible feeling I was about to find out exactly what that was, very soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you all are wondering about the timeline and their ages, I've adjusted it a bit for the timeline of this story. Tabby and Eragon are nearing eighteen, and Murtagh is twenty-one. Thanks for reading!


	52. Attack on Dras-Leona

The light of the sun was blinding as I emerged from the sewer. It had taken me and Amera the rest of the night and into the morning to navigate back through the tunnels, but we'd finally found our way. I stretched my arms above my head, reveling in the feeling after crouching in the tunnel for so long. But I didn't have time to waste. Hurriedly, I ran along the edge of the wall, thankful for my invisibility. The campsite came into view and I silently thanked the gods for getting me through this. It had been a long night, and it was going to be an even longer day.

Nasuada sighed in relief at my arrival. They weren't sure if they were going to have to send someone out after me.

"Well, how did it go?" she asked pointedly, dark eyes searching my face.

"The way into the city is simple enough," I replied, still somewhat out of breath from my sprint to the campsite, "but the tunnels are only wide enough for two at a time, at most. It will be best to take a small party in to open the gates from the inside to let the armies through."

"How many guard the gates?" Eragon chimed in.

"One-hundred and fifty, at the least. And the soldiers at the very front are those who have been enchanted to feel no pain." A shadow crossed Eragon's face at the mention of that. "It won't be easy getting past them to open the gates, but I think it can be done. Especially since we have the advantage of having two dragons on our side to their one."

"Yes, but their one is far larger than our two put together," Arya interjected, her face set as hard as stone; and green, lion-like eyes glinting sharply. "And they have the Eldunari at that. You have not had the chance to see them in combat, Tabatha, but they do not tire and can wield much more powerful spells with the help of the dragons."

"That's why they'll need to be distracted."

"And who do you suggest does that? You?" she scoffed.

"Who else? I'm the best person for it. If we ever hope to defeat Murtagh and Thorn then we must exploit their weakness. I'm the best chance you've got. While I distract them—and more importantly, I'll be distracting Galbatorix—you should be able to take out the guards and get our army into the city. It's not the safest plan, but it may be the only choice we have."

"Not the safest?" Eragon asked incredulously. "Tabatha, this is suicide! Saphira and I cannot even hope to best them right now, let alone you. You are untrained. They could kill you!"

"I am not untrained, Eragon," I spat back venomously. I was quickly becoming tired of his lack of faith in Amera and me. "I've just been trained in a different way than you. My powers are different than that of a Rider. I can do things that you cannot. For instance, I have the advantage of wielding magic without having to speak. It will give me the upper hand if he doesn't know what I'm about to do next."

"Tabatha, I'm inclined to agree with you in this situation," Nasuada offered placidly, her face remaining oddly impassive. "But Eragon is right that this is an extremely dangerous plan. Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"Yes, I am. Amera is nearly as large as Saphira, and Asron trained us well. And… there's still a bit of the old Murtagh there." Her eyes glinted knowingly and a slight smirk played at her lips. "He will not hurt me if he can help it, and my father wants me alive. If anyone has the best chance of surviving an encounter with them unscathed, it's going to be me."

"Just make sure your own feelings don't get in the way," Arya hissed, arms crossed over her chest defiantly. I stared at her pointedly for a moment, purposefully not backing down. She could not hope to intimidate me in this. After dealing with my father—the most evil and vile man I'd ever met—nothing was going to faze me; least of all this _elf._

"I know how to separate my desires from my duty," I growled back. "Perhaps you would do well to remember that I could have chosen to stay in Uru'baen, with him. But I didn't. I chose to come back to you, to fight against my father and all the evils he has committed. I loved Murtagh, but I knew that the cause we fight for here today was more important than that."

She eyed me carefully for another moment or two, but my eyes never left her piercing gaze. If she thought she'd gained any ground, I saw no sign of it on her face. "Very well," she finally conceded.

"It's settled then," Nasuada breathed, clearly thankful we'd gotten that out of the way. "Eragon, Arya, Wyrden, Angela, and any other spellcasters you may see fit will go into the tunnels tonight. You will attack the guards at dawn tomorrow morning, and open the gates. We're going to take this city."

"And Tabatha?" Eragon questioned, looking slyly between Arya and me. His cautious looks did not go unnoticed by me though, nor did I think they escaped Arya's perception either.

"Amera and I will draw Murtagh away from the city," I continued, "towards the camp, while you all are working on the gates. By the time he realizes what's happening, it will be too late."

"This may just work," Eragon muttered, rubbing his eyes wearily with his fingers.

"Aye, that it might," I agreed, trying my best to reassure him. He'd grown so serious in the time that I'd been away. But I couldn't help but think we had been away from each other for quite a while longer than just the time I'd been held captive. We hadn't really been together for more than a few days since he'd left Farthen Dur for Ellesmera. He'd been just a boy back then, and I was just a frightened little girl. It was amazing how much could change in such a short amount of time.

We all departed from one another after that, and I found Amera laying at the edge of the camp, her massive head resting upon her taloned paws.

' _Is everything alright, Amera?'_ I asked her, sitting cross-legged next to her head.

She sighed heavily, a little whisper of smoke escaping from her nostrils. Amera grew larger every day, and she was nearly four months old now; it wouldn't be long before she could breathe fire. ' _I feel so...confused, Tabby,'_ she admitted sorrowfully. ' _I know what it is we must do to defeat your father, and yet I am conflicted.'_

' _We are connected,'_ I explained slowly, ' _through heart and mind and soul. You are conflicted because I am still unsure of the best way to do this. We need to find a way to defeat Galbatorix and still save Murtagh and Thorn at the same time.'_

' _Yes, I know you're right. But knowing what the problem is doesn't always help in finding a solution.'_

' _We'll do it together, Amera,'_ I said, trying to sound hopeful. She only snorted in response, gazing mournfully at the walls of Dras-Leona.

 

* * *

 

That night, I stood at the edge of camp with the party going into the sewers. Eragon seemed calm, which was strange to me. Usually, he was a bundle of nerves. But now… He seemed a man grown, fully trained as a warrior. This would take some getting used to…

"Do you remember the way that I told you to go?" I asked, my voice slightly concerned.

"Yes, Tabby," he replied in an exasperated manner.

"It's very easy to become lost down there," I continued. "Just keep to the...right and you'll be fine…"

"Tabatha, stop worrying. We'll be fine." He cocked an angled brow at me, dark eyes gleaming.

"I know, I know. I just hate that I can't go with you all."

"You're needed here," he said softly. I only nodded as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "We really can't thank you enough, Tabby, for all that you've done." I smirked slightly and then punched him on the arm.

"You'd best be going," I said flippantly, trying not to let my worry show. "Good luck."

"You too," he called over his shoulder as he joined the others. They raised their werelights before them and then headed towards the city and the dirty sewers beneath. For some reason, there was a knot forming in the pit of my stomach, and I had a terrible feeling something was about to go horribly wrong.

Quickly, I rejoined Nasuada at her pavilion. The men about the camp were preparing for our attack the next morning, but trying to be sneaky about it. If Thorn or Murtagh had the slightest suspicion that we were up to something, the entire thing would fall apart. Surprise was our only advantage at this point. She raised her head at my arrival, but quickly looked back down at the map of the city in front of her.

"We'll station garrisons here, here, and here." She pointed to three different spots at equal intervals around the walls. "The men in these two garrisons will use their ladders to scale this city walls, while the largest group goes in through the front gates. While Galbatorix's men are distracted by our troops coming through the gates, the others can slip into the city unnoticed. All the while, Tabby and Amera will be distracting Murtagh and Thorn, so they won't give our men with the ladders any trouble."

"It's a sound plan," Jormundur said in a gruff voice. "But the ladders worry me. Why not just send them all through the gates and kill every last one of those bastards?"

"Because the gates are narrow," I chimed in, arms crossed over my chest. "If we try to funnel too many through at a time, they'll easily be picked off by Galbatorix's men." Jormundur gave me a slight grunt but made no more objections. Nasuada just gave me a fond sort of smile. I noticed the little witch-child standing by her side, staring at me intently.

"Are you ready for this, Tabatha?" Nasuada asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be." The witch-child tilted her head at me, her striking violet eyes narrowing slightly.

"Someone nearby is going to die soon," she suddenly blurted out in that disconcerting voice. "I can feel it." Nasuada stared down at the girl in shock, mouth hanging slightly agape.

"Elva?" she whispered hoarsely.

"There is an air of death about you." This was directed at me, and I felt my heart skip a few beats. "You will bring pain to a great many…" Her face scrunched up and I noticed the blood rushing to her cheeks. "Go away!" she suddenly screamed. "Go away! You're hurting me!" My eyes grew wide and I took a few steps back from the strange little child. Nasuada looked at me, a hint of fear on her face.

"I'm not doing anything!" I cried helplessly, holding my hands out in a gesture of peace.

"Tabby, I'm sorry… Would you mind leaving? Elva becomes very sick when she senses danger," Nasuada explained calmly. I just nodded and hurried out of the tent, throwing a glance over my shoulder at the girl. Right now, I wanted nothing more than to be as far from her as possible.

 

* * *

 

There was no moon tonight, which served our purposes well. It would make it harder for anyone on the walls to see what we were doing. Men scurried between the tents, making whatever last minute preparations they needed to. This was going to be a deciding battle, and whatever little extras would help were being attended to. I saw men polishing armor and sharpening weapons. Some even sparred with each other, albeit quietly. But over everything, there was a hushed air of apprehension. Whatever the outcome of this battle, it would change the course of this war, be it for better or for worse.

Amera sent me comforting thoughts when she sensed my nervousness, and it helped, though only slightly. This would be my first glimpse of Murtagh and Thorn in battle, and to tell the truth, I was frightened. What if my father was controlling them? And they didn't fall for the trap we were laying? The whole plan depended upon my distracting them, and if I couldn't deliver, everything would fall apart. Needless to say, I was starting to feel the pressure.

The moon was just coming up into the sky, and we wouldn't be attacking until dawn, so I decided to try and get as much rest as I could. After all, I would need it. Amera stood outside my tent, a gleaming, violet-scaled sentinel in the darkness. I patted her snout lovingly as I passed into the tent.

' _Thank you for keeping watch, Amera,'_ I said, crawling into bed fully clothed. I would throw my armor on in the morning. _'I need the rest right now.'_

' _You are most welcome, little one. I will wake you before the first rays of dawn appear.'_ I thanked her again and dimmed the lantern with magic, hunkering down into the cot for what I hoped would be a restful sleep.

 

* * *

 

I awoke with a start to the tolling of bells, cacophonous and blaring against my ears. Something was horribly wrong.

' _Tabatha!'_ Amera called within my mind. _'Hurry! Something's happened!'_ I vaulted out of the bed and grabbed my heavy leather jerkin, struggling with the ties on the side. Next came the gauntlets and greaves, and the metal armor that would protect my shoulders and neck. When I was fully ready, I hurried out of the tent to see Amera crouching low to the ground, eyes trained on the walls of the city. It was still dark, but I could just see a faint hint of pink on the eastern horizon.

' _Amera! What's happening? Why are there bells ringing?'_ I asked in hurried confusion as I jumped into her saddle and fumbled with the leg straps.

' _Eragon and the others are in trouble. The blue-one-Saphira has told me we must hurry. The attack begins!'_ Amera spread her wings and forced down against the heavy air, lifting us into the sky. It was chilly without the warming rays of the sun, but my nerves were so heightened right now, I barely paid any attention. She settled us down near the forefront of camp, where the ranks were forming up. Nasuada was there, in full battle armor and looking as fierce as her father once did.

"Nasuada!" I cried once we had landed. "What's happening?"

"Saphira tells me something went wrong with the plan," she exclaimed, coming closer to me on the back of her chestnut charger. "Eragon and Arya were captured, and Angela and Solembum helped them to escape from the priests of Helgrind. They've killed the High Priest in the cathedral, but now the whole blasted city knows we're about to attack!"

"And what are we going to do?"

"There is a decoy Eragon—Blodhgarm—upon Saphira's back. You two, along with her, will distract Murtagh and Thorn as best you can. Give Saphira as much time as possible to get Eragon out of there. Try to avoid engaging him in direct combat, if you can. He may hold back, but he could still seriously injure you, Tabatha." Her face was grave and serious, brows scrunching together over her dark eyes.

"I know," I replied. "I'll be careful. You just do the same!" She nodded firmly as Amera unfurled her wings and Saphira did the same. The two dragons rose slowly into the morning air. I looked over at the spellcaster that was masquerading as Eragon, and decided it was a passable illusion. But we would have to distract Murtagh well if we were to keep him from discovering the ruse. ' _Saphira,'_ I called out.

' _I will keep the red one busy while you find Eragon. Get him out of there, Tabby.'_ Her voice was deadly serious, and her sapphire eyes were ablaze with determination. With Eragon's life on the line, I couldn't really blame her.

' _Head for the cathedral,'_ I called to Amera. _'Stay low to the city.'_ She snorted in response as we raced overtop of the walls. The buildings raced by in a blur, and I had to narrow my eyes to focus on the cathedral. Saphira flew to my left and just above, starting to outpace us with her larger wings. It wasn't long before the air began to shake with an earth shattering buffeting that could only come from one place. _Thorn._

' _Here he comes!'_ Amera cried as we dropped to the roof of the cathedral. Saphira crashed upon the roof tiles next to us, scattering the stone plates to the ground. The first rays of dawn were peeking over the walls, and we were suddenly blinded by the light reflecting brilliantly off of Thorn's scales. I had to shield my eyes and look away. When the angle of the sun shifted, I could just glimpse Murtagh seated upon his back and my heart jumped within my chest. This would be the test, to see if I could stand up to him.

Saphira let out a thunderous roar, causing a flock of birds on a nearby roof to take to the skies. She and the Eragon imposter rose into the air to meet them head-on, colliding in a flurry of claws and fangs and scales. Thorn let loose a mighty roar and expelled a jet of flame at Saphira, just narrowly missing her head. Amera shifted beneath me as she tore at the roof of the cathedral with her mighty claws. And while Murtagh was distracted, I spread out my mind cautiously to search for Eragon. I knew he had been in the cathedral moments ago, but he was gone now. It took a few moments, but I finally found he and Arya racing through the streets towards the southern gate. By now, the army of the Varden would be amassing outside of it, waiting to be let in to wreak havoc upon the Empire.

' _Eragon!'_ I cried as Amera worked furiously at the gaping hole she'd managed to work open. I just prayed that he could hear me. _'Eragon, hurry! We won't be able to hold him for long!'_ There was no response, so I turned my attention back to the two dragons battling in the sky. The rising sunlight glinted wickedly off of Zar'roc's crimson blade, and a stab of fear drove through my heart as it raked across Saphira's scaly hide.

Amera suddenly ripped loose a huge section of the ceiling, and I saw into the cathedral below. The two dragons in the sky were hurtling back towards us, and I screamed at Amera to get out of the way before we were crushed. She leapt to the side just in time as Thorn formed a crater in the roof. His back arched unnaturally as whatever wards Murtagh had in place kept the massive dragon from crushing him. And I listened in horror as the building creaked beneath us and the stained glass windows shattered in their panes from the force of impact.

' _Amera, we must distract them to give Saphira a chance to breathe. Quickly!'_ Amera vaulted into the air without hesitation, using her smaller size to her advantage. She may have been much smaller than Thorn, but she was also quicker. We circled above the red dragon as he struggled to right himself, and then dove at his exposed belly. Amera drug her claws across the softer skin of his underside and he let out a ferocious growl, snapping at her tail as we passed by with massive fangs.

Saphira set to work ripping apart another section of roof as we continued to dive at the overturned dragon from above. He snapped furiously as I heard Murtagh reciting spells beneath him. Finally, the dragon was back on his feet and bounding towards us at an alarming rate.

' _Get higher, Amera! We'll turn back around and get behind him.'_

' _Hold on!'_ she cried, beating her wings furiously to gain altitude. Thorn quickly followed. I tightened my grip on the saddle as Amera angled her neck and turned around in a flash, speeding past the unsuspecting crimson dragon. He tried to turn in the same fashion, but his size would not allow for the same speed. Amera locked her powerful jaws around his huge tail and began to shake her head back and forth, like a feral dog with a scrap of meat. Thorn bellowed with rage and craned his neck to try and reach us, but Amera released him and then sped back to the cathedral.

' _Aim for the central spire!'_ I called, flattening myself as far against her as I could. ' _Veer off at the last second.'_

' _Are you sure?'_ She sounded uncertain, but I sent her feelings of reassurance. She beat her wings faster, blazing towards the central spire of the cathedral. I could feel Thorn and Murtagh right behind us. The spire was getting closer at an alarming rate, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from crying out in fear.

' _Not yet… Not yet...'_ The spire was a mere twenty feet in front of us, and Thorn was right on our tail, nipping at the scaly tip. _'Now!'_ I screamed. Amera darted around the spire with the lightning quickness of a cat, but Thorn's huge weight gave him momentum. He couldn't stop in time or get out of the way, so his enormous head went crashing into the spire, splitting it in two. The rock spire split off from the base and then twisted away to the ground below, landing in the growing pile of rubble. For a moment, Thorn lay there in a daze and Saphira took it as her chance to go for his throat. She locked her jaws around him and he clawed furiously at her neck.

' _Saphira!'_ I called, not expecting a response but hoping she could hear me. _'Eragon is nearing the gates. Help him! I'll finish here!'_ I saw her eyes dart towards me momentarily, and then she let go with a fearsome snarl and a jet of blue flame washing over Murtagh and Thorn. She sped away towards the gates as Amera leapt across the rooftop. The building was beginning to sway beneath me and I held on tighter to the horn of her saddle.

Thorn stood and looked desperately between Saphira and Amera; it seemed he was torn on who to confront. We were coming closer to him, and soon there wouldn't be a choice. The ruins of the cathedral groaned beneath the weight of the two dragons, and I felt one of the walls buckling beneath us. Thorn unfurled his wings and pushed off of what little remained of the roof. That was the final push needed.

With the horrifying screaming of stone, the cathedral buckled in on itself, settling in a huge pile of dust and rock. Where once a great structure had stood, now there was only ruin. Thorn roared ferociously and I could see Murtagh glaring in my direction. What his orders were, however, I could not be sure. Saphira's brilliant azure form was getting further away, and I could clearly see the deliberation upon his face. Capture me as he'd been ordered, or resist and go after his brother? The choice could not have been easy—nor could it have been easy so blatantly resisting my father's hold on him—but Thorn sped forward towards the gate as Murtagh howled in fury. It didn't take him long with his powerful wings to catch up to Saphira and force her beyond the city walls.

' _We must help Eragon. Quickly, Amera, to the gates!'_ She put every last ounce of her strength into beating her wings against the heavy air and flying faster than I'd ever seen her do before. We made it to the gates in a short moment, and I looked down in horror at the huge pile of rubble built up against the huge wooden door. I could see the Varden forming up on the other side, ready to do battle. But if they couldn't even get into the city, they would be sitting ducks! And then I glimpsed the chaos in front of the gates within the city. There, amidst a horde of Imperial soldiers, was Eragon and Arya standing back to back with their swords drawn, fighting furiously against the oncoming enemy. Amera let out a roar as we circled overhead, the cry reverberating throughout her entire body. I saw Thorn and Saphira grappling in midair outside of the city gates, but they were coming back this way.

Saphira pulled ahead and came up next to me. _'Help me clear the gates,'_ her voice sounded in my head. Amera stopped flapping her wings and spread them out to land, floating down gracefully to the ground. And then, a flash of crimson danced in the corner of my vision. But it was too late.

Thorn hurtled into Saphira's side and knocked her into Amera, crashing us both against the side of a building. Stones and shingles fell from the roof, pelting me in the head. Saphira was already entangled with Thorn's shimmering form, slashing and biting with reckless abandon. They lifted ever higher into the sky as we followed close behind, aiming to help in any way that we could. I felt a splash of liquid against my arm, and then a terrible burning sensation. When I looked down, I saw that my forearms were covered in crimson blood. One of the dragons above was bleeding badly. And then, there came a rumbling from deep within Amera's chest. Her whole body was shaking, and I worried that she would fall out of the sky from sheer exhaustion. But what happened next took me completely by surprise.

She opened her jaws to release a funnel of white hot flames, aimed directly at Thorn's backside. The flames licked at his body and he cried out. But still, the great red dragon did not take his eyes off of Saphira. It was then that I reached into the confines of my power, feeling that massive pool of energy, and sent a silent prayer up to my mother and the goddess. I would need whatever aid they could offer now.

"Murtagh!" I screamed aloud, my voice sounding strange to my own ears. Holding my hand out before me, I saw a growing violet light forming in my palm. Something in my voice must have given him cause for alarm, for Murtagh swung his head back to look at me, momentarily distracted. The energy was building up in my palm, emitting a low humming sound, and then suddenly shot forward, blasting Thorn in the side and spreading over his body. Both Murtagh and Thorn cried out at the same time in whatever pain I had caused them. But my triumph was short lived.

With more speed than I thought them capable of, they whipped around and Thorn folded his massive wings against his side, diving towards me at a terrifying rate. Amera wasn't expecting the turnaround, and she didn't have time to move before Thorn barreled into her shoulder, knocking us off to the side. Amera howled in pain, and I expected them to come back around for another attack, but—much to my surprise—they continued their descent to where Eragon awaited below. They were going to attack him!

Saphira hung in midair, just as surprised by their sudden offense as I was. Thorn unfurled his wings to slow his drop, but it was too late. We could never reach Eragon in time. The red dragon extended a huge taloned paw to Eragon's diminutive form.

' _Amera! Go!'_ She flapped furiously, letting loose a jet of flame again, and I felt the energy building up in my body. A white light shot out from my hands, catching Thorn in the wing. He faltered slightly, but whatever energy Galbatorix was lending them, it was too much. And then, I felt a sudden jolt in my mind, one that I recognized immediately: Eragon was about to do something stupid.

With a terrible screeching, the pile of rubble covering the gates suddenly flew into the air in a pillar of dust and rock and wood, catching Thorn in the side and drawing a terrible scream from his throat. As the great beast plummeted to the ground, I saw that his wing was a shredded and twisted ruin. The pillar of debris pushed them over the wall of the city and out of my sight, and then the rocks flew past my head, causing Amera to duck and weave in and out. The rocks hung like a canopy over the city for a moment, and then flew towards Leona Lake, where they finally plummeted into the waiting water below. A great shout went up from the Varden, and I looked down to see the gates hanging wide open, an irreparable mess themselves.

Men started pouring through the gates, and the Imperial soldiers tucked tail and ran back into the winding streets of the city, where they thought they could be safe. Saphira suddenly streaked past me in a flash of blue and landed on the stone street below next to Eragon's obviously beleaguered form. Whatever stores of energy he'd called upon to perform that spell, they'd clearly depleted him. Amera and I soon alighted on the ground next to him and I jumped out of the saddle.

"Eragon!" I cried. He looked up at me, a weak smile upon his face, and I didn't know if I wanted to hug him or hit him in that moment. I settled for wrapping my arms about his neck and squeezing as tightly as I could muster. "You could have been killed! What were you thinking!"

"He wasn't," Arya barked in anger, standing behind him.

I ignored her and let out a sigh of relief, letting a smile grace my face. It was then that a dark shadow passed overhead and every eye was turned skyward. Thorn and Murtagh hovered overhead, his wing now repaired from the ruined mess it had been.

"Brother!" Murtagh shouted, his voice augmented by magic. It boomed and echoed through the narrow streets of Dras-Leona, drowning out the screams of dying men. I'll have blood from you for the injuries you caused Thorn! Take Dras-Leona if you wish. It means nothing to Galbatorix. But you've not seen the last of us, Eragon Shadeslayer, that I swear." I saw Murtagh throw a furtive glance in my direction before they turned north and flew over the city, vanishing into the plume of white smoke that hung where the cathedral once stood. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over me as I realized we had _done it._ We had taken Dras-Leona and were one step closer to Uru'baen.


	53. Kidnappings and Conclaves

_'How are you feeling?'_ Amera's voice snapped me out of my thoughts as I stared up at the sky. The stars above twinkled brightly, countless in their numbers. Her great violet head was suddenly looming over me and she snorted softly, a small puff of smoke clouding over my face. The smoke choked me momentarily and I was wracked with coughs, trying to clear it away.

 _'Amera!'_ I complained. _'Why must you do that?'_

 _'You weren't paying attention to me,'_ she replied simply, nudging my softly with her snout. I scratched under her jaw and then leaned up against her broad shoulder. _'So how_ are _you feeling?'_ I sighed heavily and resumed looking up at the sky.

_'I don't know what you mean.'_

_'I think you do.'_ She growled deeply in her throat and I knew she was laughing at me. It amused me to try and lie to her, even though I knew I never could. _'When we fought my-red-brother and his Rider today, I could feel your confliction. I wanted to make sure you're doing all right.'_

 _'I'm fine, Amera. Thank you for your concern. I'm going to have to do it again soon, so there's no use in fretting about it.'_ She snorted again and leaned into me, laying prone on the ground and groaning in content.

 _'Have you thought of how we might free them yet?'_ she asked.

 _'Murtagh says that Galbatorix bound them using the magic of their true names,'_ I contemplated slowly. _'Do you think it's possible that someone's true name could change?'_

_'I suppose anything is possible, isn't it?'_

_'We should ask Eragon what he thinks. If their true names changed, then my father would no longer have control over them.'_

_'It's a good idea, Tabby,'_ Amera replied, _'but it all depends on them. They are the only ones that can change their true names.'_

 _'I don't see any other way.'_ My heart felt like it was growing heavier with every breath, and I buried my face in my hands. Amera nudged my leg slightly.

 _'Let us join the festivities, Tabby. We gained a great victory today; you should be celebrating with the others.'_ She clicked her teeth together slightly and pushed up off the ground. I glanced up to marvel at just how big she had grown and smiled a bit.

 _'You go, Amera,'_ I said softly. _'Celebrate with Saphira. I think I'll just turn in for the night early.'_

 _'If you wish,'_ she replied. I patted her once more on her thick foreleg before she lumbered off towards the gathering of people. I could hear them laughing raucously and knew that the ale, mead, and faelnirv was flowing freely. But right now, I didn't feel like losing myself in drink. What I really wanted was to be alone. I got up off the soft grass and headed back through the camp, to my own tent. I snapped my fingers and the lantern burst alight, filling the tent with a warm orange glow. The light flickered in the slight breeze, casting shadows over everything. And my cot looked too inviting to ignore. Perhaps sleep would be the best thing for me right now; at least that way I wouldn't have to think about the path that lay before me.

 

* * *

 

I awoke to the cold steel of a blade pressed against my throat. The lantern had gone out; I knew not how long it had been since I'd come to my tent, but the sounds of celebration could still be heard floating across the night air. I tried to keep my breathing even, but my eyes flew about wildly, searching through the darkness to find my assailant. I could just make out their silhouette in the blackness, and my body tensed up. If I moved too quickly, my throat would be cut. But how could I get the knife away?

"Don't try to fight," a cold voice whispered, pressing down the blade a little further into my skin. I felt a warm wetness sliding down my throat and snaking its way across my collarbone. Then the sharp, metallic smell of blood reached my nostrils. "I've been instructed not to harm you. But if you fight, I'll have no choice." A cold pit formed in my stomach as I recognized the voice without a shadow of a doubt. "And don't even think of calling your dragon," he continued. "Thorn is closeby; he'll stop her."

"Why are you doing this?" I whispered, the blade digging a little further into my skin.

"I don't have a choice," he snapped, grabbing me by the wrist. The blade was quickly pulled away from my throat, but he was dragging me out of the bed and had my arm pinned behind me within an instant. He was far stronger than I was. "Hurry up. It's a long flight back to Uru'baen." As Murtagh shoved me roughly out of the tent, I desperately wished I had kept my dagger under the pillow, like I usually did, but it was still shoved all the way down in my boot. I hadn't bothered to undress when I'd gone to bed, and now I wished I had.

"Stop this, Murtagh," I pleaded, wincing at the pain in my arm. "You can still fight him. Don't do this!"

"It's too late for that, Tabatha," he snarled cruelly. "After I helped you escape, he made me swear more oaths in the Ancient Language. I'm completely powerless against him now." His grip tightened on my arm as he steered me out of the camp. In what seemed like an instant, the sounds of joy and celebration were replaced by shouts and screams of terror. I turned my head as far as I could to look back at the camp, and saw Imperial soldiers running through the tents, setting them ablaze with torches. Saphira was there, roaring fiercely as she crunched down on a steel-clad soldier. And then I saw Amera, bursting through the flaming tents in our direction.

 _'Amera!'_ I screamed. _'Stay away! It's not safe!'_ She let out a deafening roar and continued to plow through the ranks of Imperial soldiers. A loud buffeting shook the air, and I looked up to see Thorn's body blocking out the stars. The fires glinted off his red underbelly, and he suddenly swooped down towards Amera.

Everything seemed to slow as Thorn reached his taloned paws out to her, aiming to swoop her up. I twisted away from Murtagh, trying to break free of his grip. He yelled something incoherent and pulled me back towards him. With a speed I didn't even know I possessed, I whirled around to face him, twisting my arm underneath me and successfully breaking his grip. The palm of my hand slammed up into his chin, knocking him backwards. I could feel his wards shattering as I focused all my energy and magic on attacking him. _How is this possible?_ I swept out a leg and kicked him as hard as I could in the knee, making it buckle beneath him. He looked up at me in surprise, but I struck him in the face with an elbow before he could say anything. And then I ran, faster than I ever have before. I could feel him following close behind me, but my legs continued to carry me forward at a blistering speed.

Spreading out my consciousness, I located Eragon near Nasuada's pavilion. If we could take him together, we might stand a fighting chance against Murtagh. Amera was screaming as she fought furiously against Thorn, and Saphira was by her side. They slashed against him with their sharp claws, and bit at his legs with their gleaming fangs. Saphira had her jaws locked about his neck, blood dripping from her teeth. But Amera was trapped beneath his heavy paw, struggling in vain against his strength as he snapped at her. There was a tent ablaze next to them, and I focused my energy on harnessing the flames. I knew that their wards would protect them from harm, but perhaps the heat would be enough to distract him so Amera could get free.

My power burst from me like a waterfall rushing over the cliff; my body seemed to be humming with the energy coursing through it. I watched as the flames bent to my will, rushing towards the three dragons as though they were coming from another dragon themselves. Thorn reared up in alarm at the sudden heat, giving Amera the chance to to scramble away.

 _'Amera!'_ She hurried to my side and I vaulted myself up her leg, taking hold of one of her neck spikes and swinging myself into the saddle. Murtagh ran across my vision, towards his dragon, brandishing Zar'roc and slashing at members of the Varden that crossed his path. My heart was hammering wildly, pounding in my ears as the chaos raged around me. And then I saw Eragon coming to meet him in front of the pavilion.

 _'Go to him, Amera,'_ I said, pulling Manin from the sheath where it was strapped to her saddle. With a snarl, she jumped forward, vaulting over the flames and squashing a few Imperial soldiers in the process. Murtagh and Eragon's swords were already crossed, and Saphira ran beside us, roaring fiercely and spouting a jet of blue flame. As I jumped down out of her saddle, I rolled across the ground and came up ready to slash at any attackers, but all I saw was Eragon knocked to the ground and Murtagh nowhere to be seen.

"Eragon!" I called as he vaulted to his feet.

"Tabby, where is he? He was just here!" I shook my head wildly while he searched around us.

"I don't know," I breathed. "Eragon, we need to try and capture him." He stared at me in bewilderment for a moment. "Without his most powerful servant, Galbatorix will be forced to come to us to get him back."

"He's too powerful, Tabby!" A red-cloaked soldier barrelled towards us, raging and yelling wildly. Eragon yelled some words in the ancient language and the man fell dead at our feet.

"We don't have time for this!" I yelled. "We need to find him!" Thorn suddenly soared over our heads, showering a row of tents with flame. And then a bloodcurdling scream split the air, sending a chill through my bones.

"Nasuada!" Eragon yelled from behind me. Murtagh suddenly came storming out of the tent, dragging Nasuada—still robed in her nightgown—by her dark hair. She struggled against him, but he quickly struck her on the temple with Zar'roc's ruby encrusted pommel and she fell silent. We raced towards them, but before anything could be done, Thorn dropped out of the sky and swallowed their forms up in his massive paw, then lifted back into the air as quickly as he'd come. I gazed up in horror as they began to pull away.

 _'I'll get her, Tabby,'_ Eragon's voice said inside my head. Saphira suddenly streaked past me, the rush of wind caused by her wings nearly knocking me over. _'You and Amera take care of the soldiers on the ground!'_ Amera was snapping at the men that rushed past her, and I hurried to her side.

 _'Tabatha!'_ she cried. _'Are you alright!'_ I assured her I was fine and scrambled back into her saddle. When I chanced a look up at the sky, Saphira was trying desperately to catch up to Thorn, but her wings were not strong enough to outpace him. They were pulling further and further ahead of Eragon and Saphira. My palm began to glow with that now-too-familiar light of energy, and a white disc shot out from my hand, hurtling across the dark sky and bursting against Thorn's side. He roared in pain, but he continued on. I could see him gasping for breath, but it didn't take long for them to disappear into the black and smoke-covered sky.

 

* * *

 

Chaos ruled the camp all around me. The last of the fires had been put out, and now the sun was trying to break through the smoke-filled sky, but still… Women were weeping somewhere nearby, their wails of sorrow flying into a high keening that was nearly unbearable. I gritted my teeth against the grating sound and hurried past. But elsewhere, there were men still clad in bits and pieces of their battle armor, wandering aimlessly through the camp. We'd all been so unprepared for this attack; how had we not seen it coming? I felt numb all over, as if I'd just been submerged in icy water. None of this seemed real. Nasuada was really gone…

I glanced up at the grey sky where the crows were already circling, eyeing their next meal where it lay slaughtered upon the ground. The thought sickened me, so I pushed it away.

' _Tabatha.'_ Amera's voice cut through my thoughts like a knife, and I took comfort in her familiar presence. ' _A meeting has been called in the small-dwarf-king's tent. The wise-one-Arya has requested you join the others there.'_ I balked at that. Why would Arya be inviting me to a meeting of leaders? I was sure that she hated me. But I was a Rider; that must have been it.

 _'I'm coming,'_ I replied, stepping over the mangled body of an Imperial soldier. He didn't look like he was more than eighteen. The king of the dwarves, Orik, had his tent on the outer edge of the camp. And when I got there, a large group of elves, dwarves, and men alike were gathered outside the tent. In addition, dwarf guards in silver armor stood at attention on either side of the entrance, holding their pikes crossed to bar any unwelcome visitors. When I approached the tent, pushing through the crowd, they uncrossed their spears to allow me to pass. I looked over my shoulder and saw a fearsome looking elf with feline features eyeing me suspiciously. But I paid them no mind. Let them think what they will.

Inside, there was an assortment of leaders. King Orik sat in a high-backed, wooden chair at the head of the long table, and Eragon stood beside him. Saphira and Amera were poking their heads under the tent flaps to survey the gathering. Arya stood on the other side of King Orik, along with Nasuada's advisor, Jormundur, and across from him was the handsome King Orrin, looking quite sullen in his purple robes; a disheveled child stood off to the side, and I knew he must be the werecat king—his likeness to Solembum was too great. In a shadowy corner, Roran stood with his arms crossed over his burly chest. And looming above them all was a monster I hoped never to see again. I knew that the Kull had allied themselves with the Varden after being released from Durza's spells, but I'd managed to avoid them thus far. It seemed my luck had run out.

They all stared at me pointedly as I entered the conclave, and I immediately felt uncomfortable beneath their scrutinizing stares. "Thank you for joining us, Lady Tabatha," Jormundur said gruffly. I nodded slightly and then settled in next to Eragon, feeling it was the only place within this tent that I really belonged. "Now, let this meeting commence." Jormundur heaved a heavy sigh as he stood leaning over the table. "Nasuada made her intentions quite clear. She wished for you, Eragon, to take her place in the event that she was unable to lead."

I could feel Eragon tensing up beside me. "I never wanted this," he said quietly, staring down at the huge map of Alagaesia spread out over the table.

"None of us did," King Orrin barked, his face set into a deep scowl. He seemed so different from when last we met. Back then, he'd been a flirtatious and confident young man. But now… He seemed to have aged ten years, and that confidence had been replaced by a hollow bitterness. Could this really be the same man?

"I never wanted this," Eragon said again, this time louder, "but now that it's happened, I swear that I will live up to Nasuada's example and lead us all to victory over the Empire."

"No one doubts that, Eragon," Jormundur said. He made to say something else, but was cut off by the Surdan king.

"But will you really live up to her example?" he spat. I was surprised by the venom in his voice. "Nasuada took counsel from nearly every person you see in this room. Will you do the same? Or shall we suffer under the dictations of someone as inexperienced as you, Eragon _Shadeslayer_? All of us have risked an enormous amount in this venture, and I will not stand by and watch it fall into ruin. Can you promise you will not let that happen, Rider?" It took every ounce of my self-control not to lash out at him, but I knew that Eragon needed to fight this battle on his own. This was an enormous responsibility, and it would not reflect well upon him if I were to jump in now and try to fight his battles for him. We were no longer children in Carvahall; I had to let him do this on his own.

"Rest assured," he said firmly, "I will consult with you as needed, but my decisions, as ever, remain my own." It was the best answer he could have given without appearing weak, but it did not seem to satisfy King Orrin.

"Forgive me if I'm being blunt—" I did not think the king was asking for forgiveness at all, based upon the smug look he wore, "—but I find that hard to believe. It is a well known fact that you are an adopted brother to King Orik, and are familiar with the elves." He glanced over at Arya in a very suggestive manner before continuing. "And what's more than that, you are known to have been a consort of the king's own daughter. She has only just returned to us after being captured and held in Uru'baen; and with a dragon, nonetheless! What's to say she isn't being employed by her father to spy on us at this very moment?" Before, I had been content to let Eragon wage this battle of wills on his own. But now King Orrin had drug me into it, and I would not lay down quietly as my loyalties were called into question.

"Eragon himself searched my mind and found me to be trustworthy," I growled threateningly. "Are you suggesting that the solemn oath of a Rider is no longer to hold any weight amongst kings? My father murdered my mother in cold blood; how could you ever think I would be on his side?"

"Clearly, Galbatorix has ways of influencing people to do things they normally wouldn't, as evidenced by the Red Rider, whom I'm told was forced into his service by black magic. It is a valid concern to worry that the same has been done to you, _Princess."_ I hurried across the room, aiming to throttle him right then and there, but Eragon lunged forward and grabbed hold of my arm, stopping me from making a decision I might have come to regret.

"I hate my father," I spat, "with every fiber of my being. And if you _ever_ call me 'Princess' again—"

"Are you threatening me, Lady Tabatha?" His eyes were cold as stone, boring into my skull with determination.

' _Be careful, Tabby,'_ Amera said from behind me, hissing softly. ' _I do not trust this two-leg.'_ I assured her I would be fine, and that I knew what I was doing, before continuing.

"Not at all, _Your Majesty,_ " I replied with as much poison as I could muster. "I am making you a promise. Do not ever disrespect me like that again. My dragon is quite temperamental, and I cannot be held accountable for her actions." That seemed to rattle him, for I saw a slight shudder make its way over his body. I tried to mask the small smile of triumph that was threatening to reveal itself on my face, and I only barely succeeded.

"Well," Arya intoned stoically, "I hope that has been made quite clear. Tabatha is on our side; that is the end of it." I looked over at her and gave a small nod of thanks for her support, which was more than I was expecting from her.

"Very well," King Orik grumbled in his gravelly voice, "but the question still remains: what are we to do without Nasuada?"

"We have no other choice," Eragon said. "We must go to Uru'baen and face Galbatorix head on. Tabatha has spent time there; she will be able to give us insider knowledge we never had before."

"That's all well and good," Orrin snapped, "but what is your plan once we get there?" Did this man never give up?

"We have the Dauthdaert—"

"Yes, yes, but that didn't do much good in helping you stop Thorn, did it? I very much doubt that Galbatorix will let you anywhere near him or Shruikan with the lance. And let's face it, you are no match for that traitorous blackguard. You aren't even a match for your own brother, and he's been a Rider for less time than you have!" A heavy silence settled over the tent, and I could feel that there were seeds of doubt being sown in their minds, even Eragon's. "We went to war," Orrin continued, "with the promise that you would find a way to surmount Galbatorix's unnatural strength. Nasuada wove her pretty tales and told whatever lies she had to in order to assure us that you—a mere farmboy from the Spine—could do it. And yet…" He paused here, I assume for dramatic effect. "Here we are, about to face the most powerful magician in recorded history, and no closer to defeating him than when we first began!"

"Eragon will not be facing the king alone," I barked, growing tired of his opposition. "I will be with him."

"Excellent!" he exclaimed facetiously. "We have _two_ inexperienced Riders against two _extremely_ powerful ones. Forgive me, Lady Tabatha, if I don't see how you believe we can win."

"I may be inexperienced in the ways of war, but I have been trained practically since birth for one sole purpose: to kill Galbatorix. And that is what I aim to do."

" _How?_ "

I stayed silent for a moment, choosing my words carefully. "Are you familiar with prophecies, King Orrin?" I asked pointedly. The question seemed to catch him off guard, for I saw him groping for a response as his mouth flopped like a fish gasping out of water.

"What on earth are you talking about?" he finally snapped. The irritation at being unnerved was plain on his face.

"I do believe I know what she is speaking of." The voice came from the werecat; Grimrr Halfpaw, as Eragon had explained later. All eyes in the tent shifted to the werecat king, who looked no more than a child. "We werecats travel this land far and wide, and pick up many tales along the way. Far to the east, a tribe of priestesses once lived, and there was a prophecy. That one day, a great evil would befall the land, and one of their own, who was blessed by their goddess, would rise up to vanquish him. Correct me if I am wrong, Tabatha, daughter of the Oathbreaker, but were not these priestesses renowned for their _violet_ eyes."

"They were," I affirmed. "And you are correct about the prophecy. Ashola, the goddess, gave me Amera's egg so that I might defeat the king. We are no ordinary Rider and dragon."

"Nonsense and fairytales," Orrin said dismissively. "You will have to supply more than words to assure me."

"Have I not proved myself?" I demanded. "Upon the battlefield, did I not fight with every last ounce of my strength until we were victorious? Whatever the cost, I will find a way to finish his reign of terror and madness. Despite what you all may think, Galbatorix is not invulnerable. He is a powerful magician, yes, and he has cast thousands upon thousands of wards to protect himself. But there is always a crack in the armor. We just have to be clever enough to find the spell that will be his undoing."

"And if we cannot?" Orrin pressed further.

"Then we may as well accept that there _is_ no way to defeat him, and he will rule as long as he sees fit." Silence pervaded the tent as the weight of my words sunk in. "But I for one will not stop searching for a way, even if I die trying. If the rest of you are not willing to commit to that, then I would ask you what you are even still doing here?" Eragon came to my side and placed a hand on my shoulder.

"I will stand by you, Tabatha," he said quietly.

"And the elves will stand by the Riders, as it ought to be," Arya chimed in. Nar Garzhvog grumbled his assent, as did King Orik, and then all eyes were upon Orrin and Grimrr.

"Well," the werecat king sniffed haughtily, "I suppose we'll be there. Someone has to sneak past enemy lines, and it certainly won't be the dwarves in their bumbling armor." I smirked slightly at the werecat's cheekiness, and then looked to the King of Surda. He downed the liquid from the goblet in front of him and then wiped the little dribble of wine that had escaped off his chin.

"Very well," he said in a dark tone, "we will continue on to Uru'baen, even unto our deaths."


	54. Reflection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in update; life has been crazy. This chapter is more of a travelogue and some self-reflection for our heroine. Hope you enjoy!

"You can't leave me now," I said softly, my voice firm but pleading. Eragon bowed his head and stared at the dirt floor of my tent, kicking a small twig about nervously. When he'd first come to my tent this morning, I had known instantly that something was amiss. After all this time, I still knew how to read Eragon better than almost anyone.

But I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that he had this in mind. "Tabatha…" he began slowly, "there are things that I must do to prepare for this battle with Galbatorix. Saphira and I need to fly to Doru Araeba—"

"By all rights, I am a Rider as well. Why can I not go with you?"

"I need you stay here," he said calmly, as though speaking to a child throwing a tantrum. "Someone must lead the Varden in my absence."

"And you really think they will follow me? That they will trust me?" My voice had risen to a crescendo, sounding shrill to my own ears. But I could feel myself starting to panic, and there was not much I could do to stop it.

"Nasuada and I both have given you our blessings; they don't have a choice." Eragon smiled at me slightly, but already my palms were beginning to sweat and my heart beating faster. I could feel Amera's consciousness niggling at the back of my mind, but I pushed her away. I didn't need another mind trying to convince me that this would be alright. "And besides, I can't think of anyone better suited to the job. You are smart, Tabby, and you have a way of bringing people from opposing sides to agreement. Think of it this way: do you really want Orrin leading the Varden to Uru'baen?" That made me clamp my mouth shut quickly and the blood rush to my head. And that's when I knew Eragon was right, though it pained me greatly to admit it.

"I don't know if I can do this," I whispered, my voice quavering and hands shaking. All of the things I've been through in the last two years, I had never been more afraid than I was now. It seemed silly, when I really thought about it; I had stared death in the face more times than I can count, yet here I was, afraid of being rejected. Eragon knelt in front of me where I sat on the edge of my cot, clasping my hands inside his own.

"And I can't think of anyone better suited to do this," he said firmly and squeezing my hands, trying his best to reassure me. "We won't be gone long; this trip is necessary if we want to defeat your father. I'm sorry, but I can't tell you any more than that." There was a deep sadness locked within his blue eyes, but I knew better than to question him further; it wouldn't get me anywhere. With a great sigh, I resigned myself to Eragon's will and wished him luck. We agreed to meet again before he departed, along with the other leaders to inform them of Eragon's decision. After he left, the sinking feeling was still prevalent in my gut, tightening and twisting until I couldn't stand the pain anymore. I sat upon my cot once more, staring at the hard ground, wondering how Amera and I could do this on our own.

* * *

Three days later, Amera and I stood watching as Saphira flew into the Western sky, disappearing into the setting sun with a sparkling flash of blue scales. A hollow sadness filled my chest as I realized I could no longer see them, and Amera softly nudged against my shoulder.

_They are not gone forever, Tabby,_ she said reassuringly. _We are all doing the best we can, and Eragon obviously feels this is what he has to do._

_I know, Amera. I just feel like we're so alone now. With Nasuada gone, we have no allies amongst us._ Finally, I turned away from the sunset and we headed back into the encampment, taking our time.

_It is not so bad as all that. We've got Arya._ I snorted in derision at that.

_She may have stood by us in the tent, but that does not make her a friend. There's bad blood there, Amera, you know that._

_You did not say 'friend', you said 'ally'. Sometimes there is a difference,_ the young dragon said matter-of-factly. I kept quiet, letting her revel in her wisdom for a moment. She could be quite cheeky sometimes, but right now I didn't mind. It was nice to feel some semblance of normalcy, even though everything around us was changing drastically.

It had been decided before Eragon and Saphira left that we would start moving the Varden towards Uru'baen. When they were done with their mission, Eragon and Saphira would rejoin us wherever we happened to be. I only hoped he wouldn't take too long; there was a horrible nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that something bad was going to happen soon.

* * *

The sunlight was nearly blinding high up in the sky, affecting my view of the shifting landscape below. Amera's wings beat steadily around me, carrying us at a leisurely pace through the cool air.

_They look so small down there,_ she commented lightly. I peeked over her scaly shoulder to gaze down at the mass of people that was the Varden below us. Amera was right; they looked like tiny ants trekking across the ground, a slowly-shifting, black mass. We'd discussed it with Arya and Roran, and all of us had come to the conclusion that my newfound leadership would best be administered out of sight. Amera and I, along with the other council members, would make decisions in private, and then the others would enact them while I remained behind the scenes. It was the best possible solution I could think of, given the circumstances.

_They'll be stopping in a few hours for the night,_ I replied. _We should go ahead and scout out a good stopping point. There's no use in us hanging back here._ Amera snorted her agreement and thrust her wings downward, propelling us forward at a faster pace. It didn't take long for us to get ahead of the Varden, and soon there was nothing but open country below us. The wavering of the grass in the wind made the earth look like it was an ever-moving sea, shifting this way and that.

Amera must have felt my thoughts, for she said, _What does the sea look like, Tabby? Is it like that large lake?_

I mentally giggled at her question when I remembered she had never actually seen the sea before. How to describe something so wondrous and beautiful? So, instead of using words, I sent her a picture of the last time I'd seen it, sitting high up on a cliff overlooking the city of Teirm. I watched the memory as we shared it, remembering Saphira sitting by my side as we talked. That had been so long ago; it almost felt like a lifetime. Before I knew who my father was; before Brom was taken from us; before I'd even met Murtagh and realized what it was I'd been missing in my life.

I'd been so naïve back then. It seemed silly now, all the things I'd done and thought. But hindsight always was clearer, wasn't it?

_Tabby?_ Amera said softly, gently. _Are you alright?_ It wasn't until then that I realized I was crying. Quickly, I wiped the tears from my face.

_Yes, I'm fine Amera, thank you. It's just painful to remember sometimes._ The great purple dragon beneath me hummed softly. We continued on in silence then, each of us content in our own thoughts.

The sun sank lower in the sky, casting an orange glow over the whole earth. I picked out a small river twisting through the grass and decided that would be a good place for us to rest for the evening. It would take another day or two to reach Uru'baen, and then the real trial would begin. We needed as much rest as we could get. Amera turned back to the west and we quickly came upon the Varden.

I reached out tentatively with my mind until I found the one I was searching for. _Arya. We've found a good place to stop for the night, about five miles ahead. There's a small river to water the horses._

_I'll alert the others,_ the terse reply came, and then all contact was dropped. Fine; I preferred it that way anyways. Amera had been right when she said Arya was our ally, but that was not the same thing as being a friend. I wondered if there would ever be warmth between me and the elf… Probably not.

* * *

Night fell upon the camp quickly, but darkness did not follow. The whole camp was alight with the glow of many fires, and the buzzing of hushed voices lent a hum to the air. There was a feeling of tightness that hung over everything, as though we were hanging on the edge of a precipice about to plummet over. In a way, I guess we were. I continued on through the tents until I came to the common area. When I reached out to Amera, I saw she was out hunting down a herd of antelope, and decided not to bother her.

The common area was filled with people, either seated at wooden tables or standing talking to one another. A rough-looking woman with short, coarse hair stood over a huge cauldron, spooning out some sort of soup to a line of people. A bonfire was going, but the scene was not as merry as it had been only a few days ago, after the fall of Dras-Leona. A few eyes shifted to watch me as I joined them, but no one paid me much attention. It was probably better that way anyways. I doubted many people knew I'd been left in charge of the Varden, but that was for the best. I didn't want to think about what might happen if it was common knowledge.

I spotted my uncle and cousins seated at a table and quickly joined them, sneaking up on Baldor and giving him quite the fright. He jumped as I put my hands on his shoulder and made an incoherent sound in his ear.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people like that, cousin," he said, his voice full of agitation. My face fell a bit at his tone; I'd never seen him act like this before. Usually, he and Albriech were joking around with everyone they came in contact with. Now… they seemed so somber. It was odd to see people I'd known all my life so changed after a long time away from them.

"I apologize," I said quietly, going around the table to sit next to Uncle Horst. "I didn't mean any harm." Her grumbled a response but then turned away from the table to people watch. Albriech gave me an apologetic look, but said nothing. It seemed his mind was occupied with something else.

"Hello, Tabatha," my uncle said, giving me as warm a smile as he could muster. I knew he was tired—we all were—but it was nice to see a little bit of his old self.

"How is Aunt Elain?" I asked.

"She's doing well. She and the baby are sleeping now. I'm afraid it may be the last good night of rest we all will get for some time." I could tell my uncle was trying his best to remain positive, but there was an unmistakable weariness to his voice and a tiredness in his eyes.

"We should reach the capital in a few days. After that, it's just a matter of time until Eragon rejoins us." I was trying to sound optimistic, but even _I_ could tell it wasn't very convincing. Uncle Horst smiled again, but it didn't reach his eyes. We fell into an uncomfortable silence then, and it wasn't long until I excused myself. How had I become so distant from my own blood? It was like… I didn't belong with them anymore. And maybe I didn't. Maybe… maybe I'm just supposed to live a life apart from now on.

* * *

Uru'baen came into our sights two days later. Amera and I had seen it from far off the day before, but now I could see everything in detail again. It was exactly as it had been the last time I was here. The giant shelf hanging over the city to protect it from air attacks, the black walls and spiraling towers… and there, high up above everything else was the enormous dragon hold. I remembered the last time I'd gone there, and the blood rushed to my cheeks. Quickly, I dispelled those thoughts and told Amera to join the others on the ground. Things were about to get very interesting. I just hoped Eragon would get here in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cutting this one short, because the good stuff is about to start in the next chapter. Please review and tell me what you think! Also, I'm asking my readers for some input on how they would like to see this story end. I've had the basic idea of how I wanted it to end for a long time now, but I'm not so sure I want to do that anymore. Any thoughts or suggestions are appreciated! Thanks!


	55. The Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end now. Only about 10 chapters and an epilogue left!

"I wouldn't be asking you this unless it was absolutely necessary. You know this, don't you?" Roran looked positively desperate as he sat in my tent, balancing precariously on the edge of my cot.

"Of course," I replied softly, placing a hand on his shoulder in reassurance. "I've noticed that King Orrin is becoming increasingly uneasy of late. But I never thought he'd go so far as to draw his blade against you."

"I don't fear for myself," Roran continued, wringing his hands nervously. "If it came down to it, I know I would have no issue killing him. I fear for Katrina and the baby."

"I won't allow anything to happen to them," I said. Roran stood and wrapped me in a bear hug, squeezing me tightly until I couldn't breathe.

"Thank you, Tabby," he whispered. "I never thought I'd find myself here, but I'm glad you're here too." I gave him a small smile. Roran and Katrina were my family; I wouldn't let anything happen to them.

' _Tabby!'_ Amera's voice came ringing in my head. Roran noticed my change of expression and kept quiet while I conversed with my dragon.

_'What is it? Are you hurt?'_

_'Eragon and Saphira have returned!'_ Her voice betrayed her excitement, and I couldn't help the smile that broke across my face.

"Tabby, what's happened?" Roran asked.

"Eragon is back." He broke out in a grin and sent thanks up to the gods before grabbing me by the arm and hurrying out of the tent. The entire camp was buzzing with excitement as I watched Saphira circle high overhead. They came to the ground a little way outside of the camp, where Arya was already waiting for them. I hurried over to the knoll they stood upon, leaving Roran behind, and Eragon broke into a grin when he saw me running, Amera bounding along behind me. He opened his arms up and I nearly tackled him with a hug.

"Tabby!" he laughed joyously.

"You're never allowed to leave me like that again! You hear?" I was mostly kidding, but I really was glad to have him back. At least the awkwardness with the rest of the rulers would be over. Eragon laughed again and then put me down, smiling widely still. I looked over and noticed Arya was standing very stiff and eyeing us carefully, but she didn't say anything. "How was your journey? Did you find what—?"

"Not here," he said quietly, cutting me off. "I'll tell everyone when we're gathered together." I nodded in understanding and then turned to walk back to the camp with him. The cousins embraced each other firmly and Eragon repeated what he'd told me about waiting til we were all together.

Eragon and Saphira were greeted warmly by those who saw them, but we hurried to King Orik's tent to avoid any delays. When we finally reached the tent, Orik clasped Eragon's arm firmly in greeting. The strange, fur-covered elf named Blödhgarm was already in the tent, standing stoically in the corner and purveying everything with his unsettling yellow eyes. I steered clear of him, not entirely sure what to make of this odd creature. Jörmundur and King Orrin arrived soon after, the latter throwing Roran a hateful glare before taking a seat at the table. The last to arrive was the beautiful Queen Islanzadí, Arya's mother. The elven forces had joined us just two days ago, and I couldn't help thinking that their presence may well turn the tide of the battle to come.

When everyone was gathered, Eragon and Saphira shared a knowing look. I couldn't quite place it, but there was something different about them. They seemed more… confident and self-assured. I was intrigued to hear what had happened to them, as was Amera.

Eragon began to speak at length about the journey they had taken to Doru Araeba, including a terrifying experience in a thunderstorm. Amera hummed softly at the thought of it, and I placed a reassuring hand on her snout. They spoke of the ruins of the Riders' ancient fortress, and strange creatures they had found there. But what interested me the most was his talk of the Eldunarí. Supposedly, they were gem-like organs that were part of a dragon's physiology, and it was called their "heart-of-hearts". The elves seemed familiar with this concept, but for the rest of us he pulled out what looked to be a huge jewel. It sparkled a brilliant golden color, and the dragon within it—named Glaedr—greeted us all in turn. The aura of energy it gave off made me certain this was the strange light I'd seen coming from Thorn's saddlebags in Dras-Leona.

"What I'm going to tell you next must remain a secret," Eragon said quietly. We all swore oaths of secrecy in the ancient language before he continued. "On the island," he continued, "we found a place called the Vault of Souls. Within it, we discovered something none of us could have ever dreamed of. There was a cache of Eldunarí from the fall of the Riders." The elves looked visibly shaken and confused.

"That can't be, Eragon," Arya argued. "Galbatorix destroyed or enslaved them all."

Instead of explaining, he simply said, "Open your minds." Tentatively, we did as he asked. And when I opened my consciousness up, I was suddenly bathed in a hundred different streams of thought, maybe even more. They were all whispering at once, creating a buzzing sound within my mind. I saw Arya drop to her knees, a hand held up to her temple. The queen and Blödhgarm quickly followed suite. I even thought I saw a glimmer of tears streaming down Arya's face.

' _Tabby,'_ Amera whispered, as though she were afraid of startling the dragons speaking in our heads. ' _This is amazing.'_

' _I know, Amera. There's so many of them. We may have a fighting chance against my father now.'_ I was so overcome with joy that I almost didn't notice the deep voice that was calling our names.

' _Tabatha,'_ it came again. ' _Amera.'_ This time, we heard it.

' _I'm here,'_ I replied, not really knowing what to say. Amera made her presence known as well.

' _My name is Umaroth. If you would oblige, I would speak to you after this meeting,'_ the great dragon said. We both sent him feelings of humility and assured him that we'd be honored to speak to him. The dragon withdrew his consciousness then, and Eragon continued. This new revelation had lifted the morale in the tent immensely.

Then Eragon told us his plan.

It was risky, but we all knew that with the aid of the Eldunarí it might just be possible.

"So when do we attack,  _Shadeslayer?_ " King Orrin asked pointedly and with a bit of a sneer. Even with the knowledge of so many dragons on our side, he still held his doubts.

"At first light," Eragon replied without missing a beat, bristling with his newfound confidence.

"It will take some preparation, but it can be done," Jörmundur said gruffly, effectively silencing the Surdan king in whatever he'd been about to say. Eragon looked to me and I nodded swiftly to show my agreement. This plan of his wasn't going to be easy, but it had to be done.

The rulers of the Varden departed after that to prepare their various soldiers. We certainly had a long day ahead of us. I smiled at Eragon warmly, but noticed that Arya was hanging about as though she wished to speak to him. Giving him a small wink, I left them to it. Amera rubbed up against me like a cat, almost sending me to the ground, when Umaroth's voice once more resounded in our minds.

' _Young ones,'_  he said. I sat down on a covered barrel not too far away from Orik's tent.

' _We are here, Umaroth-elda,'_ I replied, using the elvish honorific Eragon had taught me long ago.

' _I would share a memory.'_ Amera sat next to me as I closed my eyes, preparing for whatever Umaroth meant to show us. The ancient dragon's mind felt strange to me, but we allowed him access nonetheless. ' _This memory is for both of you, created when I was entrusted with your egg, Amera. The High Priestess would share words with you.'_ Amera hissed slightly and I sucked in my breath at the acknowledgement.

A scene suddenly appeared before my eyes, and I knew Amera could see it to. It was as though we were looking through Umaroth's eyes. The sky was dark, stars twinkling high up above, but we were surrounded by torches. It seemed we were situated upon some high platform. What other buildings we could see were far below. A tall woman stood before us, and in her hands was a glittering, amethyst dragon egg I immediately recognized as Amera's.

' _There is not much time,'_ she said, her voice floating through our minds. It was soft and comforting, and I felt a warmth spreading through my chest. ' _You must take the egg to safety.'_

' _It will be done, Vaenera-elda,'_ Umaroth's voice said.

' _Will you carry a message for me?'_ the woman asked. She was exceptionally beautiful, with short-cropped hair the color of honey and intense, violet eyes. I could only assume this was the High Priestess at the time of the Fall. ' _It is only for this dragon and her Rider. No one else must see it.'_

Umaroth swore an oath in the ancient language. Vaenera took a deep breath and then looked straight into the dragon's eyes, so that it looked like she really was speaking directly to us. She gave a small smile, but we saw that there was immense sadness in her eyes. It was the look of a woman that knew she was going to die soon.

' _I will never know your names,'_ she began softly, ' _as I will be gone by the time you are born. There is not much I can say, as I do not know what the Oathbreaker's power is in your time. But know this: our goddess chose you two for a reason. She knows all, and whatever the plans she has made for you, she will not abandon you. It is too late for many of us, but not for you. Trust in Ashola, and the prophecy will be realized. I don't have any more time…'_

She looked over her shoulder, and Umaroth's gaze shifted as well. Something had drawn their attention, but whatever it was, I could not say. The memory ended there and we felt Umaroth withdraw slightly. ' _That is all,'_ he said, a certain sadness in his voice. ' _Vaenera was my friend. Whatever that message means to you, it was important, for it was the last time we ever spoke. I hope you will heed her words.'_

' _We will, Umaroth-elda,'_ Amera and I said in unison. Umaroth left completely then and I felt a strange hollowness in my chest. I looked over at Amera and she seemed to be feeling it to.

' _I remember High Priestess Vaenera,'_ Amera said sadly. ' _She always spoke kind things to me. And she gave her life to get me to safety, with Asron.'_

' _I wish we could have met her.'_

' _Aye,'_ Amera agreed sadly. We decided to help with any preparations that might be needed. This was going to be a long day, and I would have nearly the whole of it to think on what the High Priestess had said.

* * *

Night had fallen some time ago, and dawn was approaching faster than I would have hoped. We had done all we could to help prepare, and said what could have been our last farewells to friends and family. I'd embraced my aunt and uncle and cousins as tightly as I could, and told them I'd see them after it was over. Hopefully, that would happen. As for Miles and Isabelle and Braeden, we'd exchanged well-wishes and apologies. There wasn't much to be said there, as Isabelle had made her feelings quite clear. And Evander… well, I'd avoided him. There was nothing I could say to mend the wounds I had caused, and I hoped he would come to forgive me after this was all over.

It seemed many members of the Varden had retired early this evening to try and get as much rest as possible. The camp seemed deserted and eerily quiet, but I knew it was just nervousness for what was to come. Tomorrow would be the day our lives changed forever, be it for better or worse. As for Amera and I, there was no way we could sleep. My nervousness was heightening with every moment that passed.

This was it.

The moment I'd been training for over the past two years was fast approaching. It was the thing I'd been  _born_ for. And now, I wasn't sure if I could do it.

' _You mustn't think such things,'_ Amera said, nudging me slightly. We sat at the edge of camp, facing the black fortress. ' _Think of what Vaenera said. We were chosen for a reason.'_

 _'If only I knew what that reason was.'_ It probably wasn't good to be doubting myself so close to the battle, but I found I couldn't help it. I thought over the memory Umaroth had shared with us again, and the things Vaenera told us. The goddess had chosen us, and I knew for what purpose. But why  _me_? And so, I found myself doing something I'd never done since learning of the priestesses: I prayed.

 _Goddess,_ I began slowly,  _if you're listening, I would ask for your wisdom and guidance. I don't know why you chose me, but I know the plans you have for us. I ask for your strength in the battle tomorrow. And I ask for your protection, for me and Amera, and for Eragon and Saphira as well. We're all working together to bring Galbatorix down. We could really use the help…_

I felt utterly silly, but Amera encouraged me to continue.  _Protect our friends and family,_ I went on,  _and even Arya. I know what she means to Eragon._ I stopped then, unsure of what else to say. Amera hummed pleasantly at my side. If I was expecting some earth-shattering power to descend from the heavens, I would have been sorely disappointed. At best, the prayer had only brought me slight comfort.

' _Your mother would be proud,'_ Amera said, eyeing me carefully. Her silver irises gleamed in the moonlight, and I thought I glimpsed what looked to be a tear.

' _Amera—'_ Whatever I'd been about to say was suddenly cut off by the sound of chains scraping against stone. The sounds were coming from the citadel, and I was quickly on my feet. Next came a hollow  _boom_ that echoed across the night, and a sharp tapping followed by the sound of footfalls. I knew immediately what was happening.

_Shruikan._

I saw his huge form raise into the air, the unfurling of his wings sounding like the opening of a hundred sails. Amera began to quiver at my side. She'd seen my memories of him from my time inside the citadel, but the sight before her sent a chill through her bones. He seemed to have only grown larger since the last time I'd seen him, and I knew that Galbatorix was fueling this unnatural growth with the twisted Eldunarí he kept under his control.

Suddenly, and I didn't know where he'd come from, Eragon was at my side with the strange witch-child, Elva. "Are you ready?" he growled, holding Brisingr before him.

"As I'll ever be," I replied. Shruikan climbed higher into the sky, the buffeting of his wings reverberating through the air all around us. He let loose a ferocious roar and then swung his head in a huge arc, spraying orange flames to light up the night sky. This lasted for about thirty seconds until he aimed back towards the city and landed within its black walls, lumbering back into the citadel. The gate closed once more and then silence pervaded the night again.

"He meant only to intimidate us," I whispered. Eragon grunted at my side and sheathed his sword.

"It would seem so." We looked back at the camp to see many people still staring at the sky in fear. If anyone had been trying to sleep, they surely would not be now. "Come on, it's almost dawn anyways." Amera and I followed Eragon across the camp through a myriad of tents and people suddenly wakened by Galbatorix's display. At least it had been only that. We retreated behind a knoll that was large enough to conceal both Amera and Saphira.

Eragon's plan involved the elven spellcasters conjuring shadow versions of ourselves to trick the enemy into thinking we were somewhere we weren't. Eragon and Saphira's shadow-selves would go with the northwest division, and mine and Amera's shadow-selves would aid the southeast division. If everything went to plan, we would draw Murtagh and Thorn out into the open. I pulled my cloak tighter around my shoulders, itching to use its magic to conceal me and Amera. Eragon would use his own magic to conceal him and Saphira, until the time was right.

Elva was to ride with Eragon, but I did not understand her purpose. Eragon had tried to explain to me the depth of her power earlier today, but I guessed I would see the extent of it in the battle to come. She eyed me quizzically, but said nothing. I paced back and forth nervously over the top of the knoll while Eragon fiddled with the straps of Saphira's saddle. Amera sat stoically by Saphira's side, nearly the height of the older dragon now.

I looked to the east and noticed a pink tint to the otherwise dark blue sky.  _Dawn was coming_.

"Eragon," I said quietly, hurrying down the hill and behind its concealment. "It's almost time."

"I know," he said. He stood up straight and came over to me, putting his hands on my shoulder.

"I never thought it would come to this," I said, smiling fondly at him and remembering a time long ago in Carvahall, when I'd promised to come with him on this journey.

"Nor did I," he replied. "But I'm glad you're here with me, at the end. Whatever happens, Tabby…"

"Don't say it," I cut him off, not unkindly. "Whatever's to happen will happen. If we come out of this alive, then I'll see you on the other side and you can tell me all the sappy things you're thinking right now. Agreed?" He nodded slightly and smiled. This was Eragon… I couldn't bear to tell him goodbye. If I was to die, then I wanted to remember him this way. It was as close to the farmboy he'd ever be again. This was  _my_ Eragon; the one I'd known since childhood. There was no way I could tell him goodbye.

Instead, I said, "Good luck," and climbed up into Amera's saddle, pulling up the hood of my cloak to conceal us both. The soldiers of the Varden and the elves were moving out of the camp in three columns, rags tied around their feet, armor, and weapons to try and dampen any sound they would make. The battle for Uru'baen, and all of Alagaesia, was about to begin.


	56. Destiny's Doorstep

It didn't take them long to realize we were nearly upon them. Warning bells and horns began to sound from within the city, quickly followed by the sound of shouts. I watched as the shadow-Saphira and Eragon swept up over the walls, bathing the Imperial soldiers in a wash of flame that I knew was real enough to cause damage. The elven spellcasters would see to that. Amera shifted nervously beneath me and I patted her on the shoulder.

' _We'll be alright,'_ I said, but she made no reply. I could tell she was more nervous than she was trying to let on. Then I saw our own shadow-selves escorting a group of Islanzadí's warriors up the hill that encompassed the back of the city. White hot flames poured out of Amera's mouth, effectively stopping the soldiers rushing to stop the elves. From here, the illusion was entirely convincing. I only hoped the same held true up close.

I looked over and saw Eragon bouncing nervously in Saphira's saddle, unsettling the little witch-child that sat in front of him. Her brow was crinkled in a look of concentration, as though she were trying to divine the answer to a problem. Whatever it was, I only hoped we could make it. I knew the girl could sense when someone was in immediate danger, which would make her invaluable to this mission. But there were other aspects to her power that I didn't quite understand. She looked over in my direction with those eyes that so closely resembled mine, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. I looked away quickly, back at the scene before us. It was then that I saw them…

A flash of red darted in between the tall buildings and spires of Uru'baen. My heart lurched in my chest but I tried to banish those thoughts; this was not the time. Eragon sent me reassuring thoughts.

' _Time to go,'_ he said. Then I heard him mutter some words in the ancient language and watched he and Saphira disappear into thin air. I could see a vaguely dragon-shaped shadow upon the grass, but otherwise, there was no trace they'd ever been there at all, though I could still feel their presence. The magic of the cloak still kept us concealed, but I was having a hard time concentrating with all of the auras that were pervading my senses. The city seemed to be bathed in blood already with the amount of red I was seeing.

Amera beat her wings slowly, lifting us up into the air as the battle waged below us. I could feel Saphira next to us and we both began to move forward once we were high enough. They looked like little insects down there on the ground.

The plan was to sweep over the camp where the elven spellcasters were conjuring up our shadow-selves. Amera angled downward when I felt Eragon and Saphira doing so, and I watched as the spellcasters, as well as Arya, threw a log into the air that they were all tied to. I saw the log become suspended in the air as Saphira wrapped her powerful talons around it, and it wasn't long before the elves disappeared as well. My heart was hammering in my chest as I realized this was really happening. We were really about to go up against my father.

Shadow-Saphira and Eragon were locked in combat with Murtagh and Thorn. He was coming straight for her from above, and shadow-Saphira sped to the ground, though she had to avoid a spire. She didn't quite make it out of the way though, and she and shadow-Eragon went tumbling to the ground, destroying part of the tower in the process. They disappeared into the city and the great red dragon quickly followed out of sight. The goal was to keep them distracted for as long as possible, and it seemed to be working… for the time being. I glanced up and saw men falling from the precipice of the stone overhang as shadow-Amera bathed them all in flames. The walls of the city loomed closer, and we were nearly there… just a bit further now.

I felt panic exuding from Eragon's mind, and looked over to see him clear as day, as well as Saphira and all the others. Galbatorix must have wards placed all around the city to prevent anyone from entering unseen. The wards didn't affect my magic though; it wasn't based off the ancient language, so Amera and I remained hidden. Saphira sped forward to hasten their descent into the city, hoping that Murtagh and Thorn would remain distracted enough by their shadow-selves that they wouldn't notice the truth.

' _Stay calm, Eragon,'_ I said as soothingly as possible. ' _We've not been spotted by them yet.'_ He sent me a quick feeling of thanks but Saphira continued to speed forward. I looked around her large body to see the citadel looming before us, its tall black towers reaching up to the dark overhang. Saphira began to angle downward and we quickly followed suit. She alighted in the courtyard before the massive main gates with a soft thud, Amera landing a little behind her. I threw the hood of my cloak off my head and we were exposed once again.

The roars of dragons could be heard resounding throughout the entire city. I couldn't imagine how angry Murtagh would be when he realized the deception, but I knew it would not be long now. The elves untied themselves from the log quickly and everyone began filing toward the gate. Arya held the Dauthdaert out in front of her, pointing its barbed head at the gate. She hurried toward the sally port of the main gate while the rest of us hung back. The magic of the dragonlance would protect her from whatever defenses had been place on the gate.

A rectangular peephole opened to expose a pair of blue eyes. "Who are you? State your business!" He never got the chance to say anything else. Arya shoved the lance through the opening and drew back hunks of flesh. Once that deed was done, the rest of us hurried up behind her. She placed the nose of the lance against the metal seam of the sally port and began to draw it along the line. As she worked on taking down the door, I kept looking over my shoulder at the courtyard around us.

Suddenly, a deafening roar split the air and the spellcasters shuddered slightly. It seemed our deception had been discovered.

"He'll be heading this way," Eragon said. "We must hurry." Arya worked as quickly as she could, until the sally port fell to the ground with a metallic clang, squishing the body of the man beneath it. She walked through with the lance, shielding her from the wards. When she went through to the inner courtyard, a group of about fifteen soldiers emerged. She quickly dispatched of them with the Dauthdaert and hurried back to us.

I heard the rumble of a dragon's footsteps shaking the ground, and knew that Murtagh was almost upon us. Arya slid the lance through the opening, and Blödhgarm picked it up, trotting through the gate. He slid it back and Elva was the next to go through. While she went through the gate, the two elves went to the gatehouse and began to crank it open enough for the two dragons to fit through, a feat which would have been impossible for the same number of humans. Eragon and I were the last two humans to go through, and then Saphira picked the lance up with her teeth. She made it through without incident, as did Amera.

As the tip of Amera's tail crossed the threshold, I looked into the courtyard and saw a flash of red scales coming around the corner of a building.

"Quick!" I yelled to Arya and Blödhgarm. They hurried back to the gatehouse and worked on getting the gate closed. It inched slowly shut as Murtagh and Thorn came ever closer. My heart was pounding as I watched them, and I saw there was a look of burning anger upon Murtagh's face. We made eye contact a split second before the gate slammed shut and the locks slid into place. The look in his eyes... it was...  _I can't think about that now!_

' _Tabatha, come quickly,'_ Amera urged. I turned away from the gate and followed our group toward the tunnel openings. I'd be leading us from here, along with Elva.

I knew my father would be waiting for us in his gigantic receiving chamber, where I'd first met him the last time I was in this gods-forsaken city. We trotted down one of the less-assuming tunnels that was lined with sconces. As we passed the stone walls, I was struck with déjà vu and I wondered if Galion was hiding anywhere nearby. Or even Master Tobias. I hoped he'd been able to make it out.

When I'd come this way before, all of the traps had been disabled, but I knew that would not be the case this time. My father was nothing if not thorough. That was why we needed Elva.

She urged us to stop soon after we'd entered the tunnel, and we quickly passed over a set of covered pits. The second trap was a series of spikes, which were easily avoidable with the dragons' help. The next trap, however, was less so. Elva sensed there were gigantic metal sheets set into the wall, which would eject and slice whoever set them off in two.

"What if Saphira flew over? As she did with the spikes?" Eragon asked. Elva shook her head.

"There are two more sets of blades above and below. It will not work."

"There must be some way," I said, more to myself than to anyone else. But before anyone could come up with another solution, a door at the far end of the hallway slid open, and twelve spellcasters in black robes emerged. They were muttering words in the ancient language, but Eragon was quick to react. He slapped the floor in front of him with the palm of his hand, setting off the trap. The spellcasters were caught in between the blades, slicing them in two. It was not a pretty scene. Amera hissed slightly at the smell of so much blood permeating the hallway.

"What if we were to stop the blades somehow?" Eragon asked.

"There is nothing strong enough," Arya replied.

Eragon thought for a moment, and I recognized that look. "But there is." Realization seemed to dawn on the elves at the same time. Then  _I_  realized what Eragon was asking. They were more willing to relinquish their swords than I thought they'd be, but I could tell some of them were less so than others. Eragon made short work of placing the swords within the thin opening where the blades came out. Once they were in place, we readied ourselves.

"We've got to sprint," Elva said quietly. "The swords will only hold for so long."

"On my mark," Eragon said. We waited a moment, until he shouted, "Go!" I ran faster than I ever had before, Amera and Saphira hot on our heels. Even with the aid of magic for Eragon and I, and the elves natural speed, it still seemed we would not make it.

"Faster!" the little witch-child screamed. I pushed myself, feeling my power coursing throughout every inch of my body. The end of the tunnel was almost upon us… just a little farther…

A deafening screech of metal against stone rang my ears as I realized the swords were beginning to slip. I jumped the last few feet, as did the two dragons. We were barely clear of the blades before they snapped together. My heart was hammering in my chest and my breathing labored, but I was grateful we'd all made it out alive. I looked back down the hall and saw Murtagh running not far behind us.  _We've got to hurry!_

' _Tabby,'_ Amera said, nudging my shoulder slightly.  _'This is it.'_ I turned and saw Eragon and the others standing before the ornate doors to the receiving room.

' _Are you ready?'_ I asked her, giving her snout a loving rub.

' _As I'll ever be,'_ she replied.  _'I love you, Tabatha.'_

' _I love you too, Amera.'_ I hugged her neck quickly and then joined Eragon in front of the door. He looked at me, and I saw there was fear in his eyes. Reaching down, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and a small smile.

"This is it," he whispered, echoing Amera's thoughts.

"Let's go," I replied, my voice sounding stronger than I felt. Arya reached for the door handle and began to pull it open, but a yellow light suddenly surrounded the ten other elves. They seemed frozen in time, their eyes unblinking and faces blanks.

"What's happened to them?" Arya cried. They began to slowly walk to the right in single file, their steps matching, and disappeared through an open doorway. The door closed behind them, and Arya made to go after them but Eragon grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"Galbatorix wishes for us to go after them; to distract us from facing him."

"Why did you not warn us?" Arya asked Elva, a hint of anger in her voice.

"Because the spell did not hurt them," she replied quietly. That answer seemed to satisfy Arya, for she turned back to the door.

"Very well," she conceded. She reached for the handle again and pulled on the ornate door until it opened completely. I went through first, with Amera right behind me.

The room looked much as I remembered it: dark and gloomy, with one spot of light at the end of the walk where my father sat upon his throne. The two rows of lanterns to both sides provided a little light, but only enough to see the scarlet runner we walked upon. The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness. The king sat stoically, watching us approach as he fingered the diamond in the pommel of his white sword, the one he'd stolen from Vrael. I could feel Eragon's nervousness behind me, but I felt strangely calm. This was the moment my life had been leading up to; I couldn't believe it was finally here.

"Daughter," the king said, his silky smooth voice reverberating in the huge chamber. A small smile played at his lips, but I remained stony-faced. Whatever charms he meant to try and use against us would not work.

"Father," I growled, though he did not deserve the title.

"How good it is to have you returned to me. Have you come to swear your loyalty at last?" Eragon stood at my side, but I felt him bristle at the implication.

"You know I'll never join you."

"A pity." There was only falseness in his voice. I saw a wicked gleam in his eye, and knew that he was going to enjoy whatever came next. "I must say, I've been  _dying_ to meet you, Eragon Shadeslayer. And you, Saphira Brightscales. It is truly an honor." Eragon did not reply, but Saphira growled from deep in her throat. "And what's this?" Galbatorix had a look of false surprise upon his face as he eyed Amera. I felt her unease, but she remained quiet. "You must be Amera," he continued. "I welcome you all to my humble home."

The little witch stepped forward and made to speak, but when she opened her mouth no words came forth. "Oh yes," the king laughed maliciously, "I have heard of you, Elva, and your abilities. Did you really think to best me with a child?" This last question was directed at Eragon. Whatever magic he had in place here, it was preventing Elva from using her gift. This may be more difficult than we'd first thought, and it had already seemed impossible.

"It's no matter," Eragon replied. "We will defeat you."

"Come now," Galbatorix said, holding his hands out in a gesture of friendship, "there is no need for all of this. I'm sure we can come to an understanding."

"And what would you hope to gain from that?" I snapped, letting my temper get the better of me for a split second.

"My deepest wish is to unite the whole of Alagaesia under a banner of peace," he began. "I have discovered a way of binding all magic-users. If we can monitor and regulate the use of magic, there will be no more need for war. Those who would use magic for good will be allowed to continue, and those who do not will be unable to use magic any longer. Is this not something you all would wish for as well?" The question was for all of us, but his gaze rested on me.

"Magic under the control of a single person is not freedom," Eragon said, drawing the king's gaze away. "It is enslavement." The king's face grew dark, but the mask did not crack. "And what of the Riders? You killed all of them; there was no choice offered to them."

"They were a corrupt order," Galbatorix replied. "And I had not yet discovered the means with which to bind magic-users." He meant to say something further, but the door to the receiving room suddenly opened once more, and two sets of footsteps bounced off the walls of the chamber. My heartbeat quickened and my hands began to shake. Amera sent me feelings of reassurance, but it did little to help. Murtagh and Thorn walked around us and up onto the dais to stand next to the throne, and he was studiously avoiding making eye contact with me. He looked as though he hadn't slept well in weeks, but I didn't have time to dwell on it.

"Thank you for finally joining us," the king said pointedly, betraying the annoyance he clearly felt. "Shall we welcome the rest of our party, so everything is out in the open?" Murtagh remained silent, but the king said, "Naina," and light suddenly flooded the chamber. I shielded my eyes until they could adjust, and then I noticed the block of stone in the far right corner.

Arya sucked in her breath at the sight, and Eragon made to go to her, but I stopped him. Nasuada stood with her hands shackled to the block of gray stone, and next to her stood the person I hated most in this world.

"Wonderful to see you again, sister," that traitorous bastard said, poison dripping from his every word. Léod stood leaning against the stone, but he pushed off it and began walking towards us after his glorious reveal. Nasuada watched him hatefully, but her mouth was covered with a strip of cloth so she could not speak. I tapped into my powers to study her aura, and gleaned that she was injured but alright. That was at least something.

Léod climbed the dais to stand next to our father, a satisfied smirk plastered upon his face. He wore black leather armor, and a curved blade was strapped to his hip. He had better hope he knows how to use that thing, because I surely was going to tes. It was then that we all noticed what we'd thought were black curtains behind the throne was actually the fold of Shruikan's wing. Eragon gasped at the enormous size of the black dragon, and I felt Amera's fear seeping into my heart.

' _We're supposed to fight_ that?' she asked weakly. I sent her feelings of encouragement, but it didn't seem to quell her fears any.

' _We've got the Dauthdaert. He can be beaten,'_ I replied. She snorted slightly in response.

' _Tabby,'_ Eragon said, ' _we need to attack them now, while he's still unsuspecting. This has to end.'_

' _Just tell me when.'_ I felt the power of Umaroth and the other Eldunarí meld with my own as we launched into a full on mental assault. I attacked Léod with as much force as I could, but the deranged Eldunari my father kept under his control were protecting all of them. It wasn't long before I had to retreat, or else my mind may have been torn to shreds. Amera was retreating as well, and I guessed the others were faring no better.

Galbatorix suddenly stood, a somewhat crazed look in his dark eyes. And then he spoke a Word, one that I did not recognize, and as soon as he spoke it the Word faded from my memory, as though it had never been there to begin with. I looked at Eragon and Arya, and even Elva, and they seemed to be rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak. Saphira seemed unable to move as well.

"Eragon," I whispered, finding myself not similarly affected.

"You'll find they are completely under my control, daughter," Galbatorix said, "though you are not subject to the power of the Name."

' _The Name? What is he talking about?'_ I looked at Amera and found her bound as well. ' _Amera!'_

' _I am not hurt,'_ she reassured me. ' _Dragons are creatures of magic, and although I was blessed by the Goddess, I am still subject to its rules. He's found the name of the ancient language, Tabby. That must be what's holding us.'_ Her silver eyes darted around the room, trying to conceive of some way to break this enchantment.

"Let them go," I growled, looking back at the king. He only smirked from his place upon the throne.

"I will only release them on one condition," he said, his voice deceptively calm.

"And what is that?"

"You must pledge yourself in service to me, by the name of the Goddess. As a sorceress of Ashola, you will find there is no stronger binding force in this world." My heart dropped in my chest at his words.

"What makes you think I would pledge myself to you?" I spat.

"If you do not, I'll kill one of your friends. Perhaps I will begin with the so-called leader of the Varden." His self-satisfied smirk told me he wasn't bluffing. I looked over at Nasuada and saw the fear in her dark eyes. "Or perhaps… I will kill your dragon." I whirled my head back to look at him.

"You wouldn't sacrifice one of the last female dragons in existence," I snarled, stepping slightly in front of Amera, as if to protect her. I saw Murtagh was finally looking at me, but there was a hardness in his eyes I'd never seen before.

"Then it is fortunate for me that there are  _two_ female dragons in existence. Now pledge yourself to me."

"I will not!" My hands were balled into fists at my side, the nails cutting into my skin. "You will not control me the way you did my mother!"

"This bitch needs to be taught a lesson," my brother suddenly said. He stepped forward slightly, drawing his sword from his sheath. "Let me teach it to her, Father." Galbatorix looked to his son, who so favored him in appearance and action, and nodded only slightly. I drew my sword quickly and prepared for whatever Léod was about to do.

But then Murtagh stepped forward, holding his arm out in front of my brother. I looked to him, searching his grey eyes to try and I understand what he was doing. But this was a Murtagh I did not recognize. Zar'roc was gripped tightly in his hand, the red blade gleaming in the light of the lanterns. "No," he said quietly, his voice cold and dead, "allow me."

 


	57. The Final Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a Halloween treat for you all. Just an FYI, I'm doing my other IC fic for NaNo, so you probably won't be getting a new chapter before December, unless i'm really far ahead and I have the time. Hope you enjoy! Please comment and tell me what you think. :-)

Cold dread filled my heart at those words.  _What is he doing?_ He was still staring intently at me, Zar'roc held at his side. There was a satisfied smirk on my brother's face that I wished very badly I could slap off. But my father...there was an odd look on his face. It could have been surprise… or  _worry._

 _'Tabby!'_ Amera screamed inside my head. ' _Do not do this!'_

' _I don't know what choice I have, Amera,'_ I said to her, placing my hand on the hilt of Manin where it rested on my hip.

' _Tabatha, this is too dangerous.'_ This time, it was Eragon's voice in my head. I looked to him and saw genuine fear in his eyes, and I knew from his reaction that my face mirrored his.

' _He will kill Nasuada if I don't. Or Amera… Eragon, I must.'_ Eragon was trying desperately to open his mouth to say something, but Galbatorix's power kept him firmly in place. I turned back to face the dais and noticed Murtagh was walking towards me, his face an unreadable mask. My heartbeat quickened and I swallowed the lump in my throat.  _So this was the deciding moment…_

"Wait!" My father's voice resounded throughout the chamber, and Murtagh halted his steps, seemingly caught in a spell. But he continued to stare me down. "I have a better idea," the king continued. My brother looked at him quizzically, but held his tongue.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Murtagh asked pointedly, never taking his eyes off me.

"Léod will fight Tabatha, as he suggested. The outcome will decide who will be my heir." Amera hissed behind me. I meant to say something, but he continued on. "Murtagh will fight Eragon. The winner will determine who will rank highest amongst my new order. If Tabatha is the victor, it will also decide who will rule at her side."

"You can't be serious!" I said, gritting my teeth in anger.

"Oh, I'm quite serious, daughter. This is a prime opportunity, actually. I would have tested you all anyways after you swore fealty to me; why not get it out of the way from the beginning?" That wicked gleam had returned to his eyes, and a small smirk played at his lips. Léod seemed pleased as well. This was the chance he'd been waiting for forever; to show me up in front of our father and prove he was the better offspring.

"Don't tell me you're scared, Tabatha," my brother sneered, letting out a little chuckle. Murtagh seemed hesitant, as though he wasn't sure if he would do what the king said. But he didn't have a choice, and neither did I, it seemed.

' _You must kill him, Tabatha. I know you can.'_ Amera was still immobile, but I could feel the tension building in her body.

' _I do not know that I_ want _to kill him, Amera. He is my brother after all, however cruel and twisted he has become… I will do what I can.'_ I drew Manin from its sheath, seeing the amethyst color of the blade sparkle brilliantly. "I do not fear you,  _brother_ ," I spat venomously. "And I  _will_ defeat you." He laughed again and took a step off the dais. Galbatorix spoke a few words and I watched as Arya, Saphira, Elva, and Amera slid away from the dais, creating an open space for the battles that were about to take place. My brother came toward me, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. I looked to Murtagh and saw he was watching us intently, though he strode toward his own battle with Eragon.  _What was he up to?_

' _Tabatha, be careful. I know only what you have told me of your brother, but he does not seem like the kind to fight fairly,'_ Eragon said, settling into his own stance across from Murtagh.

' _No, he does not. You watch yourself too, Eragon. I don't know what's going on with Murtagh, but something is wrong.'_ He assured me he would and then withdrew contact. I could feel some of the Eldunarí pressing close by, in case I needed their strength, and I was glad for that. I might need it against Léod. We had never fought before, so I could not be prepared for what he would do. This time, he would not attack me while my back was turned; this time, he'd have to face me head on.

I tried to stay focused on the fight before me, but with Eragon and Murtagh so close, I was finding it extremely difficult.  _Focus, Tabatha. Your life is on the line. You must defeat him._

My brother didn't keep me waiting long. He struck first, the dark edge of his blade swinging towards me in a wide arc, but I blocked it easily. My shield was small, but it was sturdy and strengthened with wards. Léod's was larger, but that also meant it was more cumbersome and harder to maneuver. But his sword had greater reach than mine, not to mention he was taller than I by about six inches. I was not weak, by any means, but the height advantage would be difficult to surmount. He attacked again, this time with a slash at my legs that I dodged just in time. My greaves would have protected me from any lasting harm, but the bruises would be painful all the same.

I didn't want to attack yet though. If I could watch him for a few more minutes, then maybe I'd be able to gauge more about his fighting style. He was powerful, that much was evident, and his moves held the practiced grace of a warrior that had been training practically since birth. After a few more slashes at my arms and chest, I surmised that he wasn't very creative with his fighting style.  _Very well; enough of this._

Manin moved like a flash of lightning in my hand, bouncing off his black steel bracer with a metallic clang. He seemed somewhat surprised that I'd managed to land a hit on my first attempt at offense, but the shock on his face was quickly replaced by rage. I made a jab at his stomach, which he swept away with his own sword and then attacked quickly with a swift combination. Behind us, I could hear Zar'roc and Brisingr striking each other.

"Is this the best you can do, sister?" Léod sneered hatefully, a wild look in his eyes.

"You haven't seen the half of it," I whispered, attacking him with renewed vigor. My magic coursed through me, though I knew that Galbatorix would stop the fight if I dared to use it. If that happened, my chance to silence my brother for good may be lost. So I kept it under control, only allowing it to supplement my strength and stamina.

I heard Eragon grunt in pain behind me, and I desperately wanted to make sure he was alright, but I knew I could not drop my guard. Léod would seize the first opening I gave him.

' _They're both alright,'_ Amera growled. ' _Both of your battles are equally matched. I cannot see an end to this. You may not have a choice but to kill him, Tabby.'_

' _Tell me if things start going badly for Eragon,'_ I replied, but then I returned my focus to the task at hand. Léod was coming at me again with a particularly vicious set of attacks. I could tell the wards around my shield were faltering; I needed to start attacking him and wearing him down.

Another blow landed on my shield and I pushed back, taking Léod by surprise. As he recovered, I began to slash mercilessly at his shield, forcing him to retreat momentarily. I aimed a blow at his greaves and watched as the metal dented slightly under my sword. He jumped back in surprise, cursing at the sudden pain. But I didn't allow him a moment's respite. Manin came down upon his shield again, chipping away at the painted wood and causing little splinters to fly everywhere. He raised his shield to protect his face and head, but while I continued my onslaught upon his shield, he made a quick swipe at my stomach that bit into the chainmail of my hauberk. I cried out and stumbled back at the pain.

' _Tabatha!'_ It was Eragon's voice. He and Murtagh were still locked in combat, but I could feel his concern radiating towards me.

' _Are you alright?'_ Amera asked.

I put a hand to my stomach, never taking my eyes off Léod, and pulled it away to find it stained crimson.  _Damn. 'I'm cut, but I'm fine,'_ I replied. I sent Eragon the same reassurance and felt him ease a little bit. I reached into the wellspring of power within me and sent it to the wound on my stomach, if only to stop the bleeding and ease the pain a bit.

Léod didn't give me a chance to rest, not that I expected him to. He attacked again, this time burying his sword into my shield and ripping it forcefully from my arm. I heard a crack as the straps came free and the shield flew across the chamber, landing some ten feet away in a splintered heap. Pain shot up my arm, but I didn't think it was broken. I could still move it. I grasped Manin with both hands, crouching lower and circling slowly.

"You may have drawn first blood," I growled, "but don't think for a moment that it means you have the upper hand."

He laughed mirthlessly. "I know that I have  _never_  had the upper hand,  _sister._ Father has always favored the daughter he hadn't seen in nearly sixteen years over the son that was right in front of him the whole time." His words sent an icy shock through my chest, but I didn't let him see me falter. "He thinks you're so special, and I can see that you think it too. And  _that_ is why I must win: to prove him wrong."

"Enough of this talk," Galbatorix said, though I quickly realized he was not talking to his children. For a moment, I wondered what was happening between the two men that meant the most to me. But my brother interrupted those thoughts.

Our blades connected mid-air, the force of the impact sending a shockwave up my arms. When he pulled away, I continued my assault on his shield until it was utterly useless. Léod flung the shield aside and grasped his sword, though the hilt was barely large enough for both of his hands. With a fearsome cry, he surged forward on a burst of speed, aiming for my neck. I brought my sword up to block him, but he continued pushing forward and I lost my footing. The steps of the dais dug into my back painfully, but I never lost my grip on Manin.

My brother stood over me, the look on his face almost deranged. I could tell he meant to kill me, but not for any fault of my own. Galbatorix had turned him into the twisted man that stood before me. There was only pure hatred in his eyes, and a sudden feeling of pity washed over me. My mother had saved me, but she couldn't save Léod. It was no fault of his own that our father had corrupted him beyond all recognition.

"Léod," I whispered, still desperately keeping his sword from slicing me, "let me save you."

His eyes went wide and his grip on his sword slackened. I pushed forward slightly, furthering the distance between his blade and my neck. His mouth hung open slightly, but then the look of surprise faded away. It was replaced by a fiery hatred. "I do not want to be saved, sister! You will bow to me, and then  _you_ will be the one needing the saving!" He drew his sword arm back to bring it down upon me, but I took his moment of blindness and rolled to the side, sliding off the steps and onto the cool, marble floor. He made to come after me, but I was too quick for him.

Manin reached around behind his leg, digging into flesh and tearing muscle from bone. He cried out in agony as I hamstrung him and then fell to the ground, a pool of red slowly eeking out from under him. Tears of pain traced down his cheeks and he held onto his wound. I stood up and loomed over him, placing the point of my sword at the base of his throat.

"Tabatha!" Galbatorix boomed. "Leave him." I looked at our father, pouring all of my anger and hatred for him into that gaze. He was smiling, but only slightly.

"This monster will not be allowed to—"

Whatever I'd been about to say was lost to me. The roar of a dragon split the air, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with feelings of panic. I turned to see Saphira struggling desperately against Galbatorix's hold, but in vain. And then I saw…

"Eragon!" I screamed. Zar'roc was buried in his side, scarlet blood staining its already-crimson blade. Murtagh jerked the blade out of his body and Eragon slumped forward with a grunt of pain. I wanted desperately to run to him, but I wasn't sure how Murtagh would react. Eragon looked down at his wound, and then up at me. And in his dark eyes I saw…  _an apology?_

Brisingr came sweeping up from where it was resting at his side. He placed both hands on the pommel and pushed it with all his strength, cutting through Murtagh's armor and into his flesh. Thorn bellowed out a tortured sound as a gasp caught in my throat when I realized that had been Eragon's plan all along. Eragon withdrew his sapphire sword, now mixed with shocking red, and Murtagh stumbled forward. I went to Eragon then and dropped to my knees next to him.

"You tricked me," Murtagh groaned, spitting out a glob of blood to mar the white marble floor.

"And you tried to kill me," Eragon retorted angrily, holding onto his wound as blood seeped between his fingers. Murtagh's eyes shifted to me slightly, and I saw the pain deep within them.

"I had to," he whispered. "You cannot defeat him; none of you can. He is too powerful. If I defeated you, I could at least try and ensure your safety… all of you."

_Now I understood._

"Murtagh…" I don't know what I meant to say. Words could not express the many things I was feeling in that moment.

"Why?" Eragon said.

Murtagh took a moment to catch his breath after spitting out more blood. "I have never known what it means to fight for anyone other than myself, until… Well, now I understand. Now…  _we understand._ " He looked at Thorn, who was watching us intently with his crimson eyes. "We understand…" he whispered again. And when he looked at me once more, there was something different in his eyes. Something…  _changed._

"Well done, both of you," Galbatorix said, cutting through my thoughts and ending the conversation. He was looking between Eragon and me with a triumphant sort of sneer, sending my blood to boiling once more.

I helped Eragon to his feet and made sure he could stand on his own before going to Murtagh. Dropping to a crouch before him, I grabbed him about the arm. "Can you stand?" I asked. He looked up and nodded slightly. I hauled him to his feet, though he stumbled slightly and had to steady himself on my shoulders.

"Be ready," he whispered suddenly, loud enough for both Eragon and I to hear. I didn't know what he was planning, but I passed the message along. He looked into my eyes and I knew for certain that something was different.  _But what?_ "I love you."

He turned suddenly and spoke the Word, which I now knew was the Name of all Names. I felt its power course throughout the room, but Murtagh did not halt. He began speaking quickly in a long string of words from the ancient language. I did not know what they all meant, but Galbatorix began to glow red and black, and there was a look of panic upon his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  _He was caught._

Murtagh finished his spell and then yelled, "Attack him now!" Amera, Thorn, and Saphira bounded across the chamber towards Shruikan. The great beast lifted his head at their approach, and I saw the glow of flames in his nostrils. Thorn latched onto his foreleg with wickedly sharp teeth and Saphira crawled up his black hide to latch onto the back of his neck. Amera worked at his foreleg alongside Thorn, tearing at his scales with her claws. As for the rest of us, we attacked Galbatorix with everything we had. I did not have time to question this sudden change in Murtagh, but I certainly thanked the Goddess for it.

The crazed Eldunari under my father's control were doing their best to hold us off, but the might of the other Eldunari with us bolstered our strength. But even in this weakened state, and without my brother, Galbatorix's defenses were still too strong. He stood slowly from the throne, fury blazing in his dark eyes.

"Enough!" he cried, and then he spoke the Word once more. Everything seemed to still within the chamber, until Murtagh fell to his knees, clutching at his wound.

"I've stripped him of his wards, he's—" He was cut off by a wave of Galbatorix's hand.

"Silence!" he barked. "I'll deal with you later." He looked back at me and Eragon and slowly strode towards us. Eragon could not speak, but I certainly could.

"So, you've come to fight at last," I sneered.

"You all cannot hope to best me with your weak little minds," he replied, coming down off the last step of the dais. "So it seems I must subdue you with physical force." His white sword shone eerily in the light from the crystals high up above, reflecting up onto his face to give him a ghoulish look. I stepped in front of Eragon, trying to protect him as best I could. If this was to be the day I died, then I would not go down without a fight.

I held Manin aloft in a striking position, my face set into a scowl. "Come and try," was all I said. Galbatorix laughed slightly, and I quickly learned why.

White hot pain shot up my side and I fell to the ground.  _'Tabatha!'_ Amera screamed from across the chamber. I looked back to see a dagger protruding from my side, and Léod standing over me. He'd somehow managed to cross the room without me noticing.

"I told you I would defeat you, little sister," he laughed. And then he ripped the dagger free from my side, causing white spots to fill my vision from the pain. I grabbed Manin quickly and rolled to my back, kicking at his injured leg, which he was keeping most of his weight off of it. He fell to the floor with a cry as Galbatorix jumped at Eragon, grabbing him by the collar.

Léod was crawling to his knees again, a grim look of determination upon his face. I must have hit my head during my fall, for blood was pouring into my right eye and blocking my vision. Quickly wiping it away, I got to my knees as well and lunged forward, aiming Manin straight for his heart. He swiped it away and as I fell past him, his dagger sliced my cheek open. I was too much in shock from the wound to my side to feel any pain this time.

I caught myself on my hands and looked up to see Léod holding the dagger up, preparing to strike. "Still determined to save me, Tabatha?" he asked, a cruel smile upon his face. "There is no saving me, sister, not anymore. The only way to end this is for you to die!"

He began to bring the dagger down straight at my chest, but in his haste and anger, he'd left himself wide open. Though it wasn't what I wanted, I knew I had to. So I brought Manin up from underneath me, where he never saw it coming.

"You're wrong, brother," I said quietly as Manin slid through his abdomen as easily as a knife through butter. He gasped, the air having been driven out of his chest, and slumped against my shoulder. I pushed further, until the blade was buried to the hilt. "It will end when  _you_  die." My brother shuddered violently against me and exhaled his last breath. I pushed him to the floor, ripping my blade free, and jumped up as quickly as I could to hurry to Eragon's side.

His eyes were squeezed shut in concentration, and I felt all of the Eldunari channeling their power into him.  _What's going on?_ I joined my stream of consciousness to the others and realized that Eragon was crafting a spell without the use of words. Every single one of the dragons was helping him, pouring all of their anger, sorrow, and hate into this spell. The force of the magic nearly stole my breath away.

Galbatorix stumbled back, his hands holding onto his head and pain obvious on his face. "What have you done?" he roared, staggering away. I limped to Eragon's side and grasped his shoulder.

"What did you do, Eragon?" I asked weakly.

"I made him  _understand._ " The dragons suddenly snapped back into motion, renewing their assault on Shruikan. The great black dragon reared his head and snarled at the attack, trying to bat them away with his massive paws. But the younger dragons were too quick. Thorn latched onto his throat, keeping an iron grip while Amera and Saphira climbed up to the back of his head. While Shruikan was many times over their size, the weight of the three dragons upon his head was too much, and it fell back to the floor with an enormous thud.

"Make it stop!" Galbatorix screamed, holding his head in pain. "The pain! I can't… I never meant to…"

"No," Eragon growled, stepping towards him. The king lashed out with his sword, but Eragon was too far away. And the pain was too much to bear.

Arya rushed past us with the Dauthdaert held firmly in her hands. She hurried over to the dragons where they wrestled on the ground.

"Please!" the king begged, a word I never thought I'd hear from him. "Daughter, help me!" His desperate plea caught me by surprise.

"You are no father of mine!" I said. He let out another guttural sound of agony and stumbled further away. An ear-shattering roar of pain filled the hall, making my ears ring. I looked at Shruikan and the other dragons and saw the Dauthdaert buried in his icy blue eye, blood pouring out and all over the floor. He fell, all of his weight crashing to the floor and shaking the entire castle. I lost my footing and fell to the ground, causing my wound to shoot with pain.

"I can't take it!" Galbatorix cried. And then two things happened at once: the little witch gave out a shriek and collapsed, and my father uttered two words in the ancient language. "Waíse neiat!"

A white glow began to surround him, and a buzzing filled the air. Eragon hurried to my side and put an arm around my shoulder. He was speaking quickly in the ancient language, though I didn't understand what was happening. The light surrounding my father was growing brighter, nearly blinding me. We began to move, though not of my own power. Whatever spell Eragon was crafting was moving all of us across the room to a single point: the block of stone where Nasuada was still shackled. Amera and the other dragons surrounded us, and Arya held Elva's unconscious form cradled in her arms. Eragon was still speaking, though I only knew this because his lips were moving. I could hear no sound above the high keening noise coming from the king.

I buried my face in his shoulder, hot tears streaming down my face. "Eragon!" I cried, gripping his tunic as tightly as I could. I could not hear my own voice, only feel the rough scraping of my scream against my throat. The light became unbearable and I squeezed my eyes shut. Eragon held me close to his chest, cradling my head in his hands and tucking his chin against my forehead.  _This was it. This is how we die._

And then... blessed silence.


	58. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a surprise for you all... I LIED! Okay, so I worked on this story for NaNo, not the other one, and guess what? It's nearly finished! I have so much material to share with you guys, so you'll be getting a steady update from now on. Probably a chapter a week. Hope you enjoy!

That silence didn't last, nor could it. The sound of stone crashing against stone caused my eyes to fly open, though the cacophony was muffled. After the screeching noise of the spell my father had cast, it would take some time for my hearing to recover. I looked up and saw Eragon still holding onto me tightly. Murtagh stood behind him, crafting a spell to release Nasuada from her chains. They fell away from her wrists and clattered to the stone.

 _Tabby,_ Amera's voice came through, clear as day inside my mind, _we must keep moving. Can you stand?_ The wound Léod had inflicted in my side was incredibly painful, but with Eragon's help I was able to stand up. I looked around at all of my companions.

Whatever spell Eragon had managed to cast had protected all of us from the blast. Other than the wounds we'd sustained beforehand, everyone seemed unharmed. Amera and the other dragons broke apart to reveal what was left of the receiving room. A giant crater, still glowing white hot, had taken the place of where my father was standing. Pieces of the ceiling were falling to the floor, smashing apart upon impact and causing the air to fill with dust. I looked at the lifeless form of the giant black dragon, but saw that most of his skin and flesh had been stripped away from the force of the blast, and his bones had been charred black as his hide. As for my brother... there was nothing left of him but a pile of dark grey ash. I had to look away when I felt my heart lurch in my chest.

"Let's get moving, Tabby," Eragon said from behind me after he'd made sure Elva and Nasuada were strong enough to move on their own. I nodded quickly and replaced Manin in the sheath upon my hip.

 _Are you hurt?_ I asked Amera, giving her a quick once-over to check for any injuries she may have sustained.

 _Just a few cuts,_ she replied, rolling her shoulders slightly. _Nothing that cannot wait. Your injuries are far worse than mine._ I assured her I would live long enough for us to get out of here and then stole a quick glance at Murtagh. He returned my gaze with a look that promised we would speak later, and that satisfied me for now. Without further ado, we all began to make our way out of the receiving room.

The wound in my side pained me greatly, and I was relying on Amera to keep me standing. She was moving quickly, but I could tell she was favoring her left leg, and that she hadn't been completely truthful with me about her wounds. A giant piece of the ceiling came hurtling down towards us, and I had to jump out of the way before it hit me. Dust flew into the air, clouding my vision, but I found my way back to Amera and she helped to lead me out of the room by following Saphira and Thorn's scents.

When we finally exited through the now-ruined doors, the dust cleared the air and I was able to see again. I found that my hearing was returning as well. Arya suddenly stopped right in front of me, drawing Eragon's attention.

"The egg! And the other Eldunarí!" she cried. "We cannot leave them here!" Eragon looked hesitant, but he quickly nodded after a moment's thought. Arya turned to Murtagh and he gave her the information required for her to locate them, and then she ran, disappearing through a doorway on the right.

The ground beneath us was rumbling slightly, and more dust was shaking down from the ceiling. It seemed that the blast had disrupted some of the structural supports of the castle, and it was like to come down on us at any moment.

"We must keep moving," Eragon said darkly, though I knew he did not wish to leave Arya alone in this place. I nodded quickly and clambered up into Amera's saddle, feeling hot blood trickle down my side. Eragon mounted Saphira with Elva in front of him, and Murtagh was helping Nasuada up onto Thorn's back. Eragon hesitated only a moment longer before Saphira began to move towards one of the tunnels that was now exposed by the blast. I could see daylight shining dimly through the haze at the end. "What of the traps?" Eragon asked Murtagh, but he shook his head and indicated that it was safe to continue on down the hallway.

Pieces of stone, both big and small, were falling steadily, battering at us as though in one last attempt from Galbatorix. A particularly large piece fell directly above me and knocked me in the side of the head. My vision went completely white for a moment, and then the pain took over everything. More blood flowed down along with the wound that was right above my eye. Amera growled and quickened her pace, nearly nipping at the tip of Thorn's tail. At the end of the hall, we encountered hundreds of people pouring out of the adjoining doorways and tunnels in an attempt to flee the destruction.

Many of them were injured, mostly broken limbs and burns, but others had to be carried out by their friends or comrades. They moved out of the way for the three dragons, but otherwise paid us no mind. Mercifully, we exited the hallway into the massive courtyard of the citadel. We were not three feet from safety before a thunderous crash shook the city. Turning swiftly around, we all saw that the throne room had caved in on itself, and was now buried beneath fifty feet of thick stone.

"Arya!" Eragon cried. She had not been in the room when it had collapsed, but that did not mean she'd escaped harm. I took a moment to survey the chaos that surrounded me, and saw just how much damage Galbatorix's spell had really done. The houses that ringed the courtyard were without their roofs, having been torn off by the blast, and giant pieces of the walls and sidings were missing on every building my eyes could see. Many other buildings were aflame, black smoke spiraling up into the sky. I glimpsed other trails of smoke further into the city, and could only imagine the frenzy that lay beyond these walls.

We continued on a little further until we came to a massive quadrangle, where the majority of Urû'baen's residents were flowing through in their attempt at escape. I could see there was an enormous hole in the outer wall of the city, and its entrance was clogged with those trying to leave. Eragon moved swiftly off Saphira's back and then reached up to help Elva down to the ground. Nasuada slipped out of Thorn's saddle first, and then steadied Murtagh so he could rest against Thorn.

Amera whimpered slightly as she tried to put pressure on her right foreleg, so I hurried around in front of her. _You've not been honest with me,_ I chided softly.

 _I am sorry, little one,_ she said, her voice thick with pain. _I did not want to worry you needlessly until we were safe._

 _Well now we are. Tell me where the pain is._ She indicated that it was centralized where her foreleg met her paw and I focused my healing power there. The purple-white light of my power shone about my hands as I laid them on her scaly leg, and she hummed in relief as it took effect. A few moments more, and I felt that the sprain was healed. _Where else are you hurt?_ I asked her.

She directed me to a nasty set of scratches along her back haunches, and a few puncture wounds in the thin membrane of her wing. Several more minutes of healing saw her good as new. I looked to see that Eragon and Murtagh were both still tending to their dragons, so I hurried over to where Nasuada was standing.

"My lady," I said breathlessly, "are you hurt?" The pain was evident in her dark eyes, but I could tell she was attempting to mask it.

"No more than you, Tabatha," she replied quietly, watching Murtagh as he healed Thorn. As she turned, the collar of her tunic moved away from her body and I glimpsed a set of angry red welts that lined her collarbone.

"Allow me to heal you, Lady Nasuada," I said. She turned back to me and nodded slightly, though reluctantly. The purple-white light returned and I got to work on freeing her from the pain I could tell was keeping her under its control. She directed me to some cuts on her legs, and then to a series of nasty wounds on her arms. They were foreign to me, but they must have pained her greatly, for when I healed them the relief was all too evident in her face.

"Thank you, Tabatha," she said quietly, giving me a small smile. I bowed my head slightly, before she continued. "And I don't just mean for healing me. It was a brave thing you did back there..."

"Thank you, my lady," I replied quickly, not wishing her to remind me of how I'd slaughtered my own brother and father. She must have sensed my discomfort, for she nodded and said no more. Then she turned and walked towards Murtagh where he stood slumped against Thorn's belly. I was too far away to hear what she said to him, but I saw her place a hand upon his shoulder and then he nodded gravely. I turned away from the scene and saw Eragon sway slightly and fall against Saphira's foreleg.

"Eragon!" I said, rushing over to him. "Are you alright?"

He looked up at me, and I saw tears brimming his brown eyes. There was a small smile upon his face, and I felt the same feelings of happiness radiating from Saphira. "Tabby," he whispered. "We _did it._ " I felt the tears threatening to flow over my eyes as well, and I had to laugh and fall to my knees before him. He reached out and folded me into a tight embrace.

"We did it," I replied, feeling the hot tears tracing down my cheeks. An overwhelming sense of relief washed over me as I realized the high of the battle was beginning to wear off. My head felt dizzy and the world seemed to be spinning around me. I could hardly believe that it was over. _We had won._

Eragon suddenly pulled back and looked in my eyes. "Tabatha," he said quickly, excitement clear in his voice, "there is something I must tell you." Saphira seemed to be bouncing on her toes, as though she couldn't wait for him to spit it out.

"What is it?"

 _On Vroengard,_ Saphira cut in, presumably too impatient to wait for Eragon, _we found the Eldunarí_ _within the Vault of Souls. But that was not all that we found._

I looked at Eragon questioningly before he said, "Eggs, Tabby. Hundreds of them, still on Vroengard. The dragons will not go extinct. The Riders will return." Immeasurable happiness washed over me, causing my chest to tighten and more tears to flow from my eyes.

"How can this be?" I asked incredulously. "I thought—"

"I know, we all did. But they are safe." He laughed at the expression upon my face and I pulled him into another tight embrace. This was the best possible news that could have come out of this day. I pulled away from Eragon and saw Murtagh standing nearby, a pained look upon his face. I stood and walked over to him hesitantly, wiping the tears of joy from my eyes. But as I looked at him, the jubilant smile I wore quickly faded. There were so many things I wanted to say; so many questions coursing through my head. I didn't know where to begin.

Before I could put words to any of my feelings, Elva's voice cut through my thoughts. "Look!" she cried, pointing back towards the citadel. We all followed her gaze and I saw Arya emerge from the dust and the rubble, a wooden box with gold clasps and hinges gripped firmly in her arms. With her were the other elves we'd been separated from. They seemed dazed, but otherwise unharmed. Eragon rushed over to them, Nasuada following closely behind, but I stayed right where I was.

"Tabby," Murtagh said softly, causing me to look back at him. He'd yet to heal his own wound where Eragon had stabbed him, and the pain was clear in his eyes, but there was also a different pain hidden there. One of emotion, rather than physicality.

"Murtagh, you must allow me to heal you," I said quickly, looking down to try and gauge how bad the wound truly was. Eragon's sword had pierced him directly below the navel, and it was still bleeding profusely. I tried to lift up the edge of his tunic to look directly at the wound, but his hand closed around my wrist to stop me.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice sounding exhausted. "Tabatha, please listen, I—"

"Stop it," I said forcefully, silencing him. "You'll die if I don't heal this right away. You've lost too much blood as it is." He forced his mouth into a thin line, as though he wanted to say something else, but he finally relented and allowed me to kneel before him so I could inspect the wound.

The good thing was that it was a clean cut, and it had not gone all the way through. If Eragon had pushed even a half inch further, he may have severed Murtagh's spine, and I'm not sure if I could have healed him then. But as it stood, his wound was treatable. I focused my power on the ugly gash in front of me. After healing Amera and Nasuada, I was feeling drained, and healing Murtagh's wound nearly dried me up completely. But after at least five minutes, I felt that it was healed enough that I could allow his body to do the rest of the work. My knees were aching from kneeling so long, and Murtagh helped me to my feet.

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling me into his chest. I was shaking, though I wasn't sure why, but the touch of his hand on my back and behind my neck helped to calm me down. I closed my eyes wearily, leaning into him, and let out a long breath. It seemed I was not out of tears yet, as more cascaded down my face. It was amazing to me that we'd managed to defeat Galbatorix without having to defeat Murtagh as well. _What had happened back there?_

"Murtagh—"

As though he sensed what I was about to say, he cut me off, saying, "Not now. We will speak later." I nodded slowly and then fell silent, reveling in the feel of his arms around me for a moment longer. He pulled away eventually, though not before planting a soft kiss on my forehead. "I cannot stay for long. I fear it may spark rebellion in the Varden, and Nasuada cannot suffer that right now. Will you and Eragon meet me later, so we can decide what is to be done?"

A twinge of fear flared in my chest, but I nodded all the same. "Just tell us where." As though he'd heard we were talking about him, Eragon appeared at my side.

"Meet me five leagues north of here by the river, at dusk," he said simply, though I could tell he was conflicted about something. _What's he up to?_ Eragon nodded but I remained quiet, not wanting to give voice to the fears that were mounting within me.

Murtagh turned back to Thorn and fiddled with the straps on his saddle until he freed a pair of saddlebags. He handed it over to Eragon without a word, and Eragon peered inside. He nodded slightly when he saw the Eldunarí contained within the bags and then hurried back over to Arya and the other elves where they stood by several large, metal boxes.

I turned back to Murtagh and he wiped at my face with his calloused fingers, trying to clear some of the blood away from my face. He spoke quietly in the ancient language and I felt the skin on my forehead knitting back together. I'd been so concerned with healing everyone else's wounds that I'd barely remembered my own. He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me slowly, til my back was facing him. I felt the edge of my tunic being pulled up and the fabric tearing away from my wound. Gritting my teeth at the pain, I allowed him to heal it as best he could. It was a deep wound, and would take time to heal completely inside, but he assured me I'd live.

I thanked him quietly and then turned again. "I must leave," he said simply, as though he feared if he said more he'd be unable to contain his emotions.

I nodded. "I know." We remained quiet for a moment, the weight of our unspoken words hanging between us. "I will speak with Nasuada before we come to meet with you, and discover what she feels is the best course of action." He nodded silently and then turned away, striding towards Thorn where he was waiting a few feet away. I followed a little ways behind.

Murtagh climbed into the saddle with a deal of effort and then turned back to me when he was situated. "Sundown," he reminded me. I reached up and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"We will be there." He drew his hand away then, and I stepped back to give Thorn enough room to take off. As much as it hurt me, I knew that this was the best way. After everything that had happened, the people would not be quick to forgive the two of them. Perhaps in time, but not so soon after Galbatorix's defeat. I watched them climb slowly higher until they were clear of the roofs of the buildings, and then they disappeared from my sight.

 _Tabatha,_ Amera said quietly, coming up behind me. _Are you alright?_

 _I'll be fine,_ I lied. I knew she was not convinced, but she said nothing. _Let's meet up with the Varden, and then we'll speak with Nasuada._ She agreed and then we walked with Nasuada toward the hole in the wall of the city.

Our walk was silent, though not awkward. When we finally made it back to the encampment outside the city, I walked in front of Nasuada while Amera walked behind her, trying to conceal her from view. A few people noticed her and rushed to her side, but a snap of Amera's teeth sent them scurrying away. So it was without incident that we arrived at Nasuada's pavilion. Elva had come with us as well, and she immediately fell into one of the chairs wearily, closing her eyes and burying her face in her hands. Jörmundur was inside the tent, and when he caught sight of Nasuada, I thought he was like to burst into tears.

They embraced quickly and then the big burly man helped her to the concealed section of her tent. I followed behind while Amera stayed without, making sure no one came in to bother Nasuada. The maids were nowhere to be found, which wasn't surprising, so I told Jörmundur I would stay and help. Nasuada dismissed him and I hurried out of the tent to fetch some water. When I returned, I filled the copper bathing tub and, with help from my magic, set the water to heating.

Although I'd healed many of her wounds, she was still sore and stiff with exhaustion, so I helped Nasuada peel off the grungy tunic Galbatorix had dressed her in. I averted my eyes to allow her some privacy, but when she climbed in the tub and was mostly concealed by the water, I could still see that her back was covered in numerous bruises. I assured her I would heal her later, when I'd regained some of my strength.

"Thank you, Tabatha," she said quietly, her arms wrapped around her knees, which were tucked up into her chest. I stood there awkwardly for another moment, eyes darting around the room, before she spoke once more. "I would appreciate your help washing. I am still weak, and my muscles are sore."

"Of course, my lady," I replied, picking up a small wooden stool from in front of her dressing table and bringing it to the side of the tub. I retrieved the perfumed soaps and rough sponges from her drawers, and then sat behind her. Pouring the soap into the tub, I watched her splash the water with her hands until a lather of bubbles could be formed. She leaned forward slightly so that I might scrub her back, and I saw the water begin to turn grimy with the amount of dirt I was sloughing off her skin. I handed her the sponge when I was done, and she worked on scrubbing her front while I got to work untangling her hair. It was not an easy task, and one that required gentleness, but I found that the act helped to calm me. My hands were still shaking from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, though it was quickly wearing off.

After a time, Nasuada inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. "I cannot believe it's over," she whispered. "Though I know the real work is only beginning. An Empire must be rebuilt…"

"And you are the perfect person to do it," I said reassuringly, worrying at a particularly stubborn knot. "I can think of no one else better suited to the task."

"You'll not be staking a claim on the throne then?" she asked innocently, though I knew there was a harder edge to her question underneath. It was then I noticed her posture had stiffened slightly in anticipation of my answer.

I continued working at her hair for a moment while I thought about it. "I think not, my lady," I finally replied. She visibly relaxed and went back to lathering the soap along her legs. "I doubt very much the people of Alagaësia will ever again accept a Rider as their monarch. Galbatorix did irreparable harm during his reign, and I would not further that harm by claiming a throne I do not deserve, nor do I want.

"Besides, the Riders are not supposed to favor one faction over the other; it's not fitting for a Rider to hold dominion over nearly a quarter of the country's population. My father knew that, but he was so hungry for power that he forsook all of their teachings in the interest of personal gain. I vowed I would never be like him, and I'll keep that promise. My place is with the Riders; with Eragon and..." I let this last part fade into silence; until I knew what Murtagh's plans were, and what Nasuada thought would be best, I couldn't be sure.

"You are truly wise beyond your years." She turned to look at me slightly over her shoulder, and I saw a small smile plastered on her full lips.

"That's amusing, my lady. Considering you are only a year older than I am," I joked. She laughed lightly, though it was a strained sound. I could not begin to imagine what she had suffered at my father's hands, but my curiosity got the better of me. "When you were held captive in the citadel, did—?"

"Galbatorix tortured me to the best of his ability," she cut in, her voice suddenly clouded with pain at the memories. "But I did not break. You all arrived just in time, too. A few more days, and I might not have been able to withstand him. If not for Murtagh's help, I'm sure I would have broken much quicker." I suddenly stopped at that.

"My lady?" I questioned, and she knew what I meant.

Nasuada turned and faced me, her modesty preserved by the soap. "He saved me, Tabatha," she said quietly. "When Galbatorix wounded me, he would heal me without the king's knowledge. And he consoled me throughout the king's mental attacks. I could not have done it without him." I felt a spark of hope within my heart, that maybe, just _maybe…_ "There are things I plan to change, if I am to be Queen, but Tabatha…" The tone of her voice drew my gaze to her eyes, and I saw the regret and apology locked within them. Tears threatened to spill once again, but I managed to hold them at bay.

"I understand, my lady," I whispered. She reached up and grasped my hand, stopping me from working at her hair.

"If I could change the hearts and minds of the people, I would do it to spare them… and you. But I think you would find that task to be even beyond a Rider's skills." I searched her face for a moment, and realized she was telling the truth. She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze before turning back around and allowing me to detangle her hair. I finished washing it in silence and then helped her out of the tub and into a soft towel. She thanked me again and assured me she could dress herself.

"Let me know if you need anything further, my lady," I said, giving her a small bow.

"I plan on calling a meeting between the leaders of the races, before dawn tomorrow morning. I'm requesting that you and Eragon be present, to represent the Riders, if that is acceptable."

"Of course, my lady. I would be honored to attend." She smiled once more and nodded, then turned to her dressing table and I took my leave. Elva was still sitting in the main receiving room at the massive oak table, staring blankly into space. I had half a mind to keep walking, but when I saw the look upon the little girl's face, it caused me to stop. "Elva," I said softly, drawing her attention. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

She stared at me pointedly for a moment and then a small smile broke across her face, though it did not reach her eyes. "You are the first person to ask me that today," she said in that unsettling voice of hers. "But I am fine, thank you. I just need rest." I nodded quickly and then retreated from her presence, feeling her eyes following me the whole way.

* * *

The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Dawn had barely broken by the time we emerged victorious from the citadel, so dusk felt like it lingered an eternity away. And there was much to be done; not a single person could be spared. Eragon enlisted my help in rounding up the remainder of the Imperial soldiers that had escaped the battle and were fleeing into the surrounding wilderness. That took us until nearly midday, and then it was time to get working on healing those that required medical attention.

Arya and the other elves were still working fastidiously on containing the dangerous effects of Galbatorix's spell to a single sector of the citadel, until it could be cleaned, so it fell to me to direct the other spell casters. I healed those that I could until my strength was gone, and then I had to borrow from Amera. She stayed by my side every step of the way, and I was immeasurably grateful for her help. I made my way through the section of camp that housed the people of my village, and checked in on my family.

"Little cousin!" Albriech exclaimed upon seeing me, leaping up from the place where he sat to embrace me tightly.

"Ow!" I cried indignantly. "You're hurting me!" He laughed before putting me back down on the ground, and I looked him over to make sure he wasn't injured. "It's amazing to me that a dolt like you could come out of that fray without a scratch."

"Guess I'm just lucky," he replied with a toothy grin. Baldor was next to come under my scrutiny. He had not been as lucky as his brother.

"You've lost a lot of blood," I said quietly as I inspected the wound to his head, "but it seems you'll live. Head wounds always bleed worse than they really are."

"That's what mother said too," he replied with a smirk, though I could tell it was forced. I made him look up at me and saw there was an immense amount of pain in his dark eyes.

"Whatever you saw," I began, quiet enough that the others could not hear, "whatever you did, know that it isn't your fault. You all fought honorably and bravely out there today, and I couldn't be more proud of my family or my village." He smiled once again, but I saw that it was genuine this time. I inspected Uncle Horst next and found his shoulder was causing him pain and healed it quickly.

"There now," Aunt Elain said from the corner, where she cradled my baby cousin, Hope. "Everyone feeling better?" My uncle laughed, as did Albriech, and I reveled in the familial joy for a moment. This might be the last time we were together as a family for a quite a while.

I stayed for another hour; it was all I could spare before I had to return to my duties. Albriech did most of the talking, and he told me of everything that had happened during their battle in the city. Roran had shown great courage in the face of adversity, and I'm sure he'd gained favor with whoever would end up assuming the throne. The account Albriech gave of his battle with Lord Barst sounded incredible, but not unlike Roran at all. And then Uncle Horst told me of how the elf Queen, Arya's mother, had been slain by Barst before Roran could kill him. My heart weighed heavily, for I knew that Arya must be hurting right now. As much as she and I didn't get along, I would never wish that loss upon her.

When the hour had passed, I stood quickly and said my goodbyes, though I assured them we'd see each other soon. I hurried out of the tent and found Amera waiting patiently, surveying the scene before us. People were running about the camp with a sense of determination, though there was a hum of underlying joy that permeated it all.

 _The real work is just beginning,_ I said to her, echoing Nasuada's thoughts from earlier. _Our battle may be over, but that does not mean the war is. I have a bad feeling many will be opposed to the changes that are coming._

 _They don't really have a choice though, do they?_ she asked.

 _I suppose they could rebel,_ I admitted, _but it would not be wise. The Empire has fallen, and its policies and laws will fall into disarray. Whatever rebellions may arise, Eragon, Saphira— and we, of course—will quell them before they get out of hand._

 _And what of Murtagh?_ she asked. I detected a note of sadness in her voice. _And Thorn? What will become of them?_

I sighed and glanced up at the sky, noticing that the sun was beginning to sink in the western sky. It was nearly sundown. _We shall see, Amera. I really don't know, and I'm afraid to find out. Nothing would give me greater joy than to see them stay… But I just don't know if that's possible. We'll speak to Eragon and Saphira about it. Come, it's nearly dusk. We must go._ She snorted in agreement and I clambered up into the saddle. She spread her wings and vaulted up into the air, leaving deep gashes in the earth, and we headed into the city.


	59. The Parting of the Ways

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a very emotional chapter for me to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

When Amera landed in the quadrangle, not far from Saphira, I saw Eragon standing slightly off to the side, away from everyone else. He and Arya were locked in conversation, and I noticed that she seemed to be crying.

 _I'll be right back, Amera,_ I said when I jumped off her back. She snorted slightly in response and then I walked over to the pair of them. They didn't notice my arrival until I was almost upon them, and I saw Arya hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Tabatha," she said, for Eragon's back was to me and he still hadn't realized I was there. He turned swiftly, taking a step back from the elf.

"Arya," I said slowly, unsure of how to progress. "I… I wanted to offer you my condolences. I heard about your mother."

She looked at me for a moment and then gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said, tears still glimmering in her emerald eyes. I nodded and then turned to Eragon.

"It's nearly sundown," I said quietly. He gave me a knowing look and then turned back to Arya. I turned and walked away, allowing them their privacy. They spoke for a few more moments and then he strode purposefully toward Saphira.

"I'll follow you," he said as he climbed into her saddle. I mounted Amera and then she vaulted into the sky, quickly followed by Saphira. We glided towards the south in order to get out of the city, but once we were clear of the walls we turned sharply to the left and began going north, around the hill the citadel backed up against.

Eragon was sending me feelings of warmth and encouragement, but it did little to help my growing nervousness. How would this conversation go? What would he decide? I could beg and plead as much as I was able, but ultimately the decision was Murtagh and Thorn's to make. The thought that this may be the last time I see him sent a knot to my stomach and a tightening in my chest. I'd been so focused on the mission of killing Galbatorix over the last month that I hadn't allowed myself to envision what might happen afterwards. Now that it was all real and happening… _I was frightened._

 _Whatever happens, Tabby, you have me at your side. And Eragon and Saphira as well._ Amera hummed beneath me, her wings beating steadily against the headwind.

 _I know, Amera. Thank you. But I'm still frightened. After all we've been through, I can't stomach the thought of it ending now._ We remained quiet for the rest of the flight, until a small copse of trees came into view right about where Murtagh said to meet him. There was a clearing, and in the dying light of the sun I caught a glimpse of ruby red scales flashing against the green.

 _There they are,_ Eragon said as Saphira angled downward. Amera and I followed, spiraling behind them until the two dragons set foot on the ground. Thorn was lying near the bank of the river, seemingly gazing into the rippling surface, and Murtagh stood near him with his arms crossed over his chest. He still looked awfully tired, and his face was gaunt, as though he hadn't eaten or slept in a few days, but there was something… _different_ about him. This seemed more like the man I'd fallen in love with, so long ago. But they were still separate. It was amazing how much he had changed in the time since we'd first met.

He smiled at me, but made no move to come to my side. Slowly, Eragon and I walked towards him as the three dragons inspected one another, sniffing and presumably speaking amongst themselves. Eragon stopped about two feet away from him, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. I noticed that Zar'roc was strapped to Thorn's saddle, and I wondered when Murtagh had the chance to grab it out of the wreckage.

"Hello," he said quietly, looking between Eragon and me, though he did not continue. It seemed we were all of us at a loss of what to say or do.

Suddenly, Eragon smiled and said, "This seems somewhat familiar, though there were a number fewer dragons the last time we were all together like this." I had to laugh at that, and even Murtagh allowed himself a small smirk. I could remember how we'd crossed this river like it was yesterday, Saphira ferrying the horses across as we fled from Gil'ead in a time before secrets and enslavement had separated us.

"That seems like a lifetime ago," I replied wistfully. "How we all have changed since then."

"Some more than others," Eragon said, though not unkindly. Murtagh stared at the ground for a moment, seeming to wrestle with his words. And I felt my heart breaking. "You don't have to go, you know," Eragon continued, cutting him off in whatever he'd been about to stay. Eragon was quiet for a moment, presumably talking with Saphira. "We found a cache of dragon eggs upon Vroengard; the Riders will return and flourish once more. We could use your help in teaching them."

This information seemed to shock Murtagh, and I saw a flash of doubt spread over his face. "How? Galbatorix never—"

"That's because he never knew," Eragon said. He proceeded to explain the situation of the eggs and the other Eldunarí, and understanding settled over Murtagh's face.

"This is wonderful news, of course," he said hesitantly. "But I'm not sure it's such a good idea for Thorn and me to be around other people right now." He looked to his dragon, and I noticed something pass between them. "There are… _things_ that Galbatorix made us do… things I'm not sure we'll ever forgive ourselves for. But we need to try and forgive ourselves before we can expect anyone else to forgive us."

He looked at me, immense sadness in his grey eyes. "Murtagh… You've been forgiven." My voice caught in my throat.

"I'm not speaking of you two. The dwarves will not be so quick to pardon the man that killed their last king." Eragon seemed to ponder this a moment, but whatever his thoughts were, he kept them to himself.

"You have a home here, Murtagh." Eragon looked at me a moment before continuing. "Roran is your family as much as mine, and you've never even met. You belong to Carvahall and Palancar Valley as much as Urû'baen, maybe more. Good company and staying busy are often the best cure for a sickness of the soul."

"Not this time, I think." He hung his head for a moment, thinking over something. "I… _we_ need to be alone for a while. Until our hearts are not so filled with anger, and we no longer feel like filling the oceans with blood." At those words, I felt my heart shattering in my chest. Whatever hopes I had of convincing him to stay, he'd banished them with that single utterance. Eragon shot me a quick glance and I saw the pity in his stare. He waited for me to speak, but the things I wished to say needed to be said in private, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Where will you go?" he asked.

Murtagh looked up at the sky. "North, I think. We need time to just sit and think. Perhaps I'll build a castle; I'll have the time."

"Well," Eragon continued, "when you decide you no longer wish to be alone, you are welcome to visit us at our hearth, any time."

"We will, I promise." Eragon nodded at that, and then turned to leave, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder.

"Eragon, wait," Murtagh called. Eragon turned back to face him. "When you teach the Riders, will you do something for me? Teach them not to fear. It is good in small amounts, but when it is your constant companion, it cuts away at who you are and makes it hard to do what you know is right." Eragon nodded curtly, and then I noticed Thorn slowly lumbering towards us.

His consciousness stretched out and he said, _Thank you for not killing my Rider, Eragon-Murtagh's-brother._

"Yes, thank you," Murtagh said dryly.

"I am just glad I didn't have to," Eragon replied with a chuckle. The four of us suddenly tensed as a feeling of great anger and sorrow pressed against us.

 _Would that I could thank you for the same,_ Glaedr's voice suddenly said. I had forgotten that he and the other Eldunarí were still present and listening. Whatever else Glaedr wished to say passed between he and Murtagh and Thorn in silence. I would ask him about it later, though I'm sure it had to do with the fact that Glaedr and Oromis' lives had been extinguished at his hand.

When they finished speaking, Murtagh looked back at Eragon. "Can you remember the name of the ancient language?" he asked.

"I can _almost_ remember…" And then Murtagh said it quietly two times, so that Eragon could commit it to memory. I heard it too, and filed it away for later, though I doubted I'd ever have cause to use it.

"I'd caution you against sharing that information with too many people. It would be worse than useless if every magician and sorcerer knew the Name." Eragon nodded stiffly and then looked between Murtagh and me.

"Well, then," he began awkwardly, "I'll leave you two alone now." He turned back to Murtagh. "Be careful."

"You too… Brother." Murtagh extended a hand towards Eragon, and he grasped his forearm firmly.

"Brother," Eragon affirmed, a smile upon his face. With that, he turned and strode back towards Saphira.

"I will meet you in the courtyard just before dawn," I said to him quietly as he passed me. "Nasuada has called a meeting and wants us to be there." He nodded and then gave me an encouraging look before bounding over to his dragon. I looked back and watched as he climbed up into the saddle and they took off into the sky, giving one last wave before they disappeared into the clouds. _Now comes the hard part._

 _Tabatha,_ Amera said from the river, _we'll be right over here. I'm only a thought away._

 _Thank you, Amera._ Thorn left his Rider's side and joined Amera by the river, where I'm sure they were locked in conversation. They sat somewhat apart, as though they were nervous to be around one another. I'd have to question her about that later.

I turned to look back at Murtagh and saw there were so many things he wanted to say, though he could not find the words. I felt the same way. Stepping a bit closer to him, I said, "Is there nothing I can do to convince you?" I could have begged; I could have pleaded; I could have promised him anything... but I already knew the answer.

"Back in the throne room," he began slowly, almost hesitantly, "do you know what happened?" I had my suspicions, but I allowed him to explain. "It took me long enough to realize it, but it was at that moment I understood just how much we'd changed. It was enough that our true names changed, and the hold Galbatorix had on us was void."

"I knew that would be the thing that could save you. But how?" I questioned.

"That night, in Dras-Leona when you came to see me up on the wall… I thought that might have been the last time I'd ever see you. I was of the belief that the final battle with Galbatorix would see one or both of us dead." When he said that, I remembered what had happened when we'd kissed, and our auras had actually mixed together; his bleeding into mine and mine into his. That mingling of our two souls into one must have had a greater effect on his being than I had imagined. Silently, I sent up a prayer of thanks to the Goddess.

"Aren't you glad you were wrong?" There was a smile on my face, but I knew it wasn't convincing. "It was more than I could have hoped for. I too am glad that Eragon didn't have to kill you." A heavy silence fell between us, and I looked down at my hands where I was fiddling them at my waist.

He stepped toward me after a moment, and put a hand up to my face in order to force me to look at him. "Can you forgive me? For what I have done?"

"I already have." He leaned into me, resting his forehead against my own. "I wish there was something I could do or say to convince you to stay, but I understand why you feel you must leave." I thought back to the conversation I'd had with Nasuada, and knew that she'd spoken the truth. But however much I knew she was right, I had to say it. If I didn't at least try, I knew I'd hate myself 'til the end of my days. "Please stay with me," I whispered, feeling a tear trickle down my cheek.

He wrapped his other arm around me and folded me into his chest. "I can't, Tabby. My heart is telling me that is the only thing I want… but my head, it's telling me that this is the way it must be. There's so much anger still inside of us... I'm afraid I am no longer the man you knew."

"I don't care," I protested hotly, pulling away so I could look him in the eye. His grey eyes were as intense as ever, but there was a hardened edge to them that had not been there once. He was right, however much I hated to admit it. He was a different man. "I will do whatever I can to help you, Murtagh. _Whatever_ it takes, you will have me by your side."

"It is not quite so simple, Tabatha," he said. "You must trust me in this. Time apart from one another will do us good."

"We have spent too much time apart as it is," I argued. "I _love_ you—"

"But who's to say you will love the man I have become?"

I bit down on my lower lip, trying to decide the best thing to say. "In spite of everything that has happened," I began slowly, "and all we have put one another through, I know something of our old selves is still there. As long as that piece—no matter how small a piece it may be—is still there, I believe we can find a way to work through this. We can find a way to fall in love again, with the people we have become."

"I _still_ love you, Tabatha." He angled my chin up so that he could kiss me deeply, holding me as close as he possibly could. I never wanted this to end, if it meant he would stay. But it had to. My protestations had all been in vain; I could feel it in the way he trembled against me, as though he was trying to memorize every part of this moment.

I pulled away and tucked my head back into his chest and allowed him to just hold me in silence for a few minutes. It comforted us both, but did nothing to ease the aching in my chest. I could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart, and I closed my eyes to just listen to it for a few moments. I would drag this out as long as I possibly could.

My hands were placed upon his chest, tugging at the collar of his tunic. He looked down and then suddenly let out a chuckle, causing me to pull away and give him a questioning look. "What are you laughing at?"

He took my right hand in his own and tugged the sleeve down. "I can't believe you still have this," he mused quietly. I followed his gaze to the tattered, dirty bracelet that was wrapped around my wrist, the one he'd given me outside of Gil'ead.

"I promised I would never take it off. And I never did. It seems the luck followed me, though I fear it may have run out now." I chanced a look up at him, and saw he was smiling down at me sadly.

"If I thought I could stay and not fear for mine or Thorn's safety, or the safety of others, you know I would in a heartbeat. More than anyone, you would be in danger, Tabatha. Those old fears are still prevalent. The son of Morzan and the daughter of Galbatorix, both with dragons... it would not be difficult for the people to misconstrue or twist the truth." I nodded at that, though it pained me to admit it. The people did not know the two of them like I did, or like Eragon and Saphira and Nasuada did. They would not be so quick to forgive.

"I know," I replied softly. "That does not make this easier." I pulled away from him slightly. "Can I make one small request?"

"What is it?" he said hesitantly.

"Stay with me just one more night. That is all I ask. We can even stay here, if you like." He looked to his dragon, and a conversation passed between them. And then he turned his gaze back upon me.

"We will stay, one night." I smiled and embraced him once more. At least I had bought myself a few more hours.

 

* * *

 

Our two dragons went hunting along the banks of the river and brought back a trio of does. We'd stripped the dragons of their saddles for the time being, and I rifled through Amera's saddle bags to try and find any cooking implements. Murtagh had a tripod and pot, and I was able to find some bowls and utensils amongst my things. When the dragons returned with their prizes, we both shared the task of skinning one doe, while Amera and Thorn began working on their own dinners.

 _How was your hunt?_ I asked her as I began to skin the doe in front of me. Chancing a look over at her, I saw her tail twitching happily, and a light in her silver eyes.

_Thorn is very experienced. I was able to pick up some new tricks from him._

_I am glad you enjoyed yourself,_ I laughed.

 _Is there a particular reason you are laughing at me, Tabatha?_ she asked, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

 _None whatsoever._ I couldn't help the smile that came to my face. She snorted indignantly in my direction and snapped her teeth, which caused a bark of laughter to burst from my lips.

"What's so funny?" Murtagh asked, a hint of a smile upon his face.

"Oh, it's nothing," I laughed. Amera blew a ring of smoke from her nostrils and it floated over to me, ringing my head in a cloud of unbreathable air. I coughed and swiped it away so that I might breathe again, and then felt my face flush red when I realized the rumbling sound coming from the dragons was them laughing at me.

"Well, it certainly sounds like something," he prodded.

"I'm just teasing Amera," I replied, coughing once more to clear my lungs. "I believe she's infatuated with Thorn."

"That doesn't come as a surprise, considering…" He paused and looked me over for a moment. "They say that a dragon's emotions are influenced by their Rider. It would surprise me more if they _weren't_ drawn to one another." I nodded slightly, and then a look of surprise and amusement passed over Murtagh's face.

"What is it?" I asked. He was looking at Thorn, so I knew that they were conversing. The great red dragon snorted and then turned his head towards Amera. Suddenly, the two dragons began to circle one another, their tails twitching rapidly.

"Thorn has told me he wishes to test her." Their jaws hung open to expose their teeth, and they were breathing heavily in a sort of whining sound.

"Test her? I don't—" I looked back at Murtagh, and when I saw the knowing look in his eye and the wry smile upon his face realization suddenly dawned on me. "Oh," I said quietly, looking back at the dragons. Thorn was the first to jump forward, nipping at Amera's haunches. He was much bigger than her, but she was a quick little thing. She slashed at his foreleg, but only just barely missed. They continued to circle one another, but Thorn had the advantage of length and he was able to rake his teeth across her hindquarters.

Amera yowled in anger when the gashes began to bleed, but she jumped forward quickly and latched her teeth onto the back of Thorn's head, though not firmly enough to cause him serious injury. Murtagh laughed aloud, a sound that I hadn't heard in a very long time, and when I looked at his face there seemed to be genuine happiness there. I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from my chest to join his.

"Thorn is thoroughly embarrassed," he said.

"I suppose that means she's proved herself?" An overwhelming sense of pride washed over me from Amera, and she let out a triumphant bugle as she released Thorn from her grip. He shook her off and then spread his wings as wide as they would reach, the thin membrane of their folds casting a red glow over the entire clearing. He truly was a beautiful sight to behold.

The scene only became more beautiful when Amera reared up on her back legs and spread her wings as well, letting out a roar and loosing a jet of violet flame into the sky. Thorn responded with a blast of his own and the two dragons took to the skies, spiraling around one another until they were out of our sight, and too far away to reach through our mental connections.

"That didn't take long," I said, chuckling to myself.

"They've both been alone for a very long time," Murtagh replied, poking at the small fire he'd built under the pot. "It's only natural they would seize the opportunity as soon as it presented itself." I smirked slightly, but felt the blood rushing to my face.

I finished skinning the deer in silence, and then Murtagh helped me to portion out the meat. What we would use for our meal tonight he threw into the pot of water and dropped in some smallish vegetables. It was dark now, so the dragons were invisible to us, but I could still just barely sense Amera's presence nearby. I glimpsed flashes of joy mingled with sadness, for now she was in the same position that I was.

When the stew was ready, Murtagh doled it out and handed me a bowl, plopping down beside me where I rested with my back against Amera's saddle. We ate in comfortable silence, just glad to be in one another's company for now. And when our meal was finished, we trekked down to the river together to wash the bowls and utensils. After that task was done, we returned to our makeshift camp and sat together once more, Murtagh's arm draped over my shoulder and holding me close to his chest.

"What will you do?" I asked him finally, after nearly a half hour passed in silence.

"I'm not sure yet," he replied quietly. "We'll need to find a place that's secluded from any civilization, and then we'll have to find shelter right away. But perhaps I will build us a great house, something I'll build with my own two hands, without the aid of magic. An accomplishment I can be proud of…"

"You broke Galbatorix's hold on you; I should think that would be noteworthy enough." He laughed slightly, and I could hear the smirk in his voice.

"I could not have done that without _you_ , Tabatha." He angled my head so we were looking into one another's eyes. "You saved me when I needed it most, and I can never repay you enough for that."

"You do not have to." He leaned in and planted a soft kiss upon my lips, sending a jolt of energy coursing through my body. I grabbed hold of the back of his neck and drew him closer to me, reveling in this moment for as long as I could. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against mine. "I love you, Murtagh," I whispered, closing my eyes.

He exhaled a breath. "And I love you… but the longer I stay, the harder it's going to be for me to leave." I choked back the tears that were threatening to spill over.

"I know." I felt Amera pressing at the back of my mind, offering feelings of comfort, and I knew the dragons were circling close by, trying to give us some semblance of privacy. Murtagh drew away from me then and stood, offering his hand to help me up.

"It's time," he said, his voice sounding heavy with emotion. He pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Wait," I suddenly said, an idea popping into my mind. "I wish to propose an arrangement." He pulled back and eyed me with a look of amusement.

"I should have known you would do this. You always were so stubborn," he said fondly.

"Yes, you should have" I quipped back. Then I took a deep breath in preparation for what I was about to say. "I understand why you and Thorn wish to leave, Murtagh. There is much pain and bitterness within you, and you need to sort things out for yourselves. I'm willing to let you go without a fight if you will promise me one thing." I waited in breathless anticipation for his reaction. Would he be angry? Would he refuse?

He pondered this a moment, his arms relaxing from where they gripped my waist. "And what is this one thing?" he finally said warily.

"Go off into the wilderness," I began slowly, fingering the bracelet on my wrist nervously. "But come back in half a year. Come back, and if you still feel you must keep to yourselves, then I will not protest. Leave and do not come back for as long as you feel you must, and I won't say a word."

It was clear by the look on his face that my proposal had shocked him. "Tabatha…" I said nothing, waiting for him to make the decision that could affect the course of our lives forever. "And what of you? If I decide that I must leave once more, what will you do?" I understood the implied meaning behind his words.

"I will wait for you, Murtagh." I said the words in the ancient language, so he knew they were an oath that I meant wholeheartedly. "No matter how long it takes, I am yours. From this day, until the end of my days." He took my hands and wrapped them within his own, bringing them up to kiss them gently. His eyes closed and I thought I glimpsed a tear there.

"What did I do to deserve you, Tabatha?" he whispered quietly. My heart fluttered in my chest when he looked at me. He gave me a small smile, and then said, "Very well. Half a year, and I will return to you. Then we may decide what is to be done." I tried to contain the happiness I was feeling, but it was threatening to overwhelm me. Quickly, I pulled him toward me and into a deep kiss. When we came up for air, both of us were smiling.

Amera and Thorn returned to the camp not long after that. _You must fill me in later,_ Amera said, her voice full of cheekiness.

 _Aye, we have much to discuss, young lady,_ I replied pointedly. She drew away in embarrassment and I had to laugh. Murtagh hefted his saddle onto Thorn's back and began securing the straps; while he did that, I walked around in front of the massive red dragon. He swung his head down so that I was staring right into his ruby red eye.

 _I would thank you,_ he began in that sonorous voice of his, _Tabatha-Murtagh's-lover. You have saved my Rider and me._ I felt a blush rising to my cheeks at his words, and I knew that Murtagh was listening.

 _And I would do it all again, if I had to._ Thorn snorted at that and let out that odd dragon-laugh. _Take care of each other,_ I continued. _It may be dangerous where you are going. I pray that you both find the peace you so desperately search for._

Thorn looked over my shoulder, where Amera was standing not far behind, and let out a small whimper. _Leaving with the memory of today will aid in that endeavor, I am sure of it,_ he said, a note of sadness coloring his voice. He leaned forward and touched the tip of his snout to my forehead. _May the sun and the wind be always at your backs._

 _And at yours._ He withdrew contact then, and Murtagh was finished tightening the straps around his belly. He stepped away from Thorn's side, and I saw he held something in his hands. It was a parcel wrapped in brown cloth, though I could not be sure what it held. He walked over to me and began to unwrap the cloth. What it revealed was a beautiful, ornate set of mirrors. He picked up one and handed it to me; I held it gingerly, fearing that I might break the delicate object.

"This is a very old set of scrying mirrors," he explained. Then he spoke some words over them in the ancient language. "They date back to the time when elves still ruled Ilirea, and Galbatorix had them kept under lock and key until I stole them out of the treasure room a week ago. You need only say the words _'draumr kópa',_ and we'll be able to communicate, no matter where the other is _."_

The breath caught in my throat at the sight of the beautiful mirror. "Thank you," I replied quietly.

"I'll contact you shortly before the six months is up, so we can decide where to meet. Wherever you may be at the time, I want to make sure we don't end up somewhere too populated."

I nodded. "Well," I said slowly.

"Well," he replied. "I suppose this is goodbye."

"For now," I reminded him, stepping forward and snaking my arms around his neck, taking care not to drop the mirror. "Six months will see us together again." He kissed me fervently this time, drowning in the sensation as much as he could bear. It was still not enough.

When he pulled away and climbed up into Thorn's saddle, the aching in my chest became nearly unbearable. "Until then," he said somberly, "watch out for yourself, and for Nasuada. Galbatorix had many spies, even more than he told me about. Some of them were not bound to him by magic alone, and they'll be looking for revenge. I love you, Tabatha."

"I love you, Murtagh," I replied. Thorn wasted no more time in dragging out the inevitable, and so he spread his wings and gave three powerful flaps until they were airborne, casting one last long, mournful look in Amera's direction. We watched one another drift apart, until the two of them disappeared into the darkness of the night sky and I could no longer make out their forms. Only once I was sure I could no longer see them, nor they me, did I allow myself to cry.

I sank to my knees in the soft grass of the clearing, burying my face in my hands, and let my sorrow pour out over my face. Amera let out a mournful keen at the sky, which reverberated through the night air until it dissipated. Our sorrow and loss mixed together, and she curled up around me.

 _Six months is not so long,_ Amera said sadly, nudging my shoulder with her head. _We have not lost them for good._

_Not yet, anyways. Who knows what they will decide after that time?_

_We shall just have to wait and see._ Amera laid her head down in the grass, still gazing up at the star-covered sky occasionally. We had lost so much on this night, but I drew comfort from the knowledge that will still had each other.


	60. Heir to the Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really anxious to get this chapter out, so you're getting it early this week! Lol! Anywho, fun story, I've been really hard at work on this story for the last week, and... it's almost finished. I've got maybe three chapters left, and it's really exciting!   
> Alright, let's get on with the story. Enjoy!

Eragon and I walked side by side up to the top of the tower, taking our time. There was still a few minutes yet until dawn. And there was just the barest hints of pink on the eastern horizon, the only indication that night was almost over.

We didn't speak much, except to comment on the exceptional craftsmanship of the tower. It was one of the original spires from the time of the elves. Their artistry and skill was evident in every carving, sculpture, and curve of the wall. This city was certainly beautiful, underneath all of the damage my father had done. It would be beautiful once again, but first we needed to choose who would head up this new kingdom.

When we finally reached the landing at the top of the tower, Eragon stopped and turned to me. He put his hands on my shoulders and looked into my eyes. "Are you sure you're alright to do this?" he asked. "I can speak for both of us, if you wish."

"I'm alright, Eragon. I promise." I hadn't yet told him about the arrangement Murtagh and I had made; that could wait until later. Although the prospect of seeing him again in a few months helped to lessen the pain I was feeling, it didn't abate it completely. Eragon nodded stiffly, though I could tell from the look on his face that he knew I was keeping something from him. He was kind enough not to mention it.

He opened the door and I stepped in front of him. When I entered, every eye in the room turned to me, some less friendly than others. One particularly unfriendly pair belonged to the king of Surda. He sat in sullen silence in an elaborately carved chair, a golden goblet of wine clasped firmly in his grip. It was evident by the shabby state of the room that this tower hadn't been used in many long years. Rafter beams were falling into decay, and one large beam was even resting against the floor at an angle, still slightly attached to the ceiling. I looked up and saw several birds' nests and a large hole in the ceiling. Dust covered the floor completely, only cleared where the footsteps of its current visitors had walked. And on the far wall hung a dingy looking tapestry depicting a battle scene between elves and dragons, the edges of which were tattered and frayed.

King Orrin looked especially out of place in this forgotten room, in his fine robes and with his golden crown; the rest of us—still covered in dirt and grime from the previous day's events—seemed to match the atmosphere of the room. All except Nasuada and the tall elf nobleman, Lord Däthedr. He eyed me in much the same way King Orrin did, though I got the feeling it was more because of my appearance, rather than my person. I'd cleaned my face of all blood and dirt, but my clothes were still in a rough-looking state. Roran gave me a reassuring look though, from his place next to Jörmundur. I was glad he was here; that was one more friend to count.

I walked quickly to the outer edge of the room and rested upon a windowsill which looked out over the city; Eragon joined me and leaned against the wall to my left, arms crossed over his chest. Outside, I could feel Amera and Saphira lingering close by. Their presence helped to calm my nerves, which were raging for several different reasons.

After it seemed everyone was present and accounted for, Lord Däthedr began to speak. "It shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone why it is we are gathered here," he said in a musical voice. I watched the tall Urgal chieftain shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. His race was not known to be friendly with… well, anyone, and he seemed especially on edge in this room. The king of the dwarves stood next to him, though well apart and somewhat on his own. And next to Lord Däthedr stood Arya. I knew she was still grieving, and she was only here because her mother had been killed, but I couldn't help thinking she was very strong and holding up very well. "It may seem hasty, to choose a ruler after the last king was deposed only yesterday, but we must act quickly. Several factions will begin vying for power if we do not, and we may very well have open war on our hands once again."

He looked at Arya for a moment, and she nodded only imperceptibly. "The elves would never presume to choose the leader of your race, just as we would expect you to do for us, but—" Orrin scoffed loudly and then took a long draught from his goblet. The elf lord eyed him carefully, but he never let whatever annoyance he may have felt show on his face.

"We are all citizens of this land," Arya continued, a slight scowl upon her face. "We must be united in order to keep the last hundred years from repeating themselves."

"Whoever takes up the mantle of leadership over the human race must exhibit several qualities," Lord Däthedr said, looking at everyone in the room in turn. Jörmundur stood behind Nasuada, towering over her and keeping a watchful eye over the proceedings. "They must have a natural aptitude for leadership, as well as an ability to keep a calm head when it comes to negotiating conflicts. And they must be willing to communicate with their allies in proceedings that have a bearing on all of us."

"But you would  _never_ presume to choose our leader," Orrin sneered derisively, taking another swig of the dark red liquid. Lord Däthedr remained unfazed at the interruption.

"With all that being said," he continued, "let us weigh the candidates." He paused and I waited for him to say Nasuada's name, but his eyes turned in our direction. "There is the obvious choice. Eragon Shadeslayer, you were instrumental in taking the king's life. It would not come as a surprise if you took his throne as well."

That came as a bit of a shock, despite what the elf had said, and I looked over at Eragon to try and gauge his reaction. He looked as surprised as I felt. I pressed against his mind and he allowed me access, as well as Amera.

_Is this what you want, little one?_ Saphira asked calmly.

_I… I hadn't really thought about it,_ he replied, his voice sounding dumbstruck.

_We will stand at your side and support you,_ I chimed in,  _if this is what you want._ Amera offered her agreement. Eragon considered the choice for a moment, and then looked back at all the eyes staring at us.

"No," he said firmly. "I do not desire to be king. Besides, I doubt the people would be quick to welcome another Rider as their ruler." Arya gave him a small smile and then he looked at me. I nodded my approval as well.

"And then we have you," Lord Däthedr said, drawing my attention. He was staring right at me, though his eyes were cold and hard. "The king's own daughter." I felt my heartbeat quicken in my chest as I realized everyone was staring at me.

_I'm right here,_ Amera said comfortingly, and I heard the rush of air as her wings flapped just outside the window.

"Though I think everyone in this room would agree it is ill advised," he continued, "you do have a legitimate claim to the throne. I cannot say if another will fight you for it, however." I looked at Nasuada, expecting her to be shooting me daggers with her eyes. But her face remained calm, though she held a knowing look in her eyes. My mind flew back to our conversation yesterday...

I did not even need to consider it, nor did I hesitate in giving my answer. "I have never desired to be queen," I began, my voice sounding stronger than I felt, "and the events of these past three years have not changed that. Not even since the day I first learned of my identity has the yearning to rule stirred within me. What's more than that, I am mostly unknown to the people, other than by association with my father. They do not know me, as my friends know me; they do not understand how much I hate and despise my father and my brother for what they did. I am in agreement that it is ill advised for me to become queen, but I will stand behind whoever assumes the position, as is my duty."

He nodded approvingly and then looked away. "There is also Roran Stronghammer."

"Roran!" Eragon exclaimed, pushing himself up off the wall.

"He proved himself to be a strong and capable leader in the battle for the city," Arya interjected. "And he is well loved by the people." Roran stepped forward from the place he occupied in the shadows and spoke quickly, and with a sure voice.

"I want nothing more than to return home to Palancar Valley and raise my family in peace." And that was the end of it from him. Lord Däthedr nodded firmly and then stepped toward the table where Orrin was sitting.

"Then there are only two more viable candidates," he said somberly, looking between Nasuada and Orrin.

"You mean to contest my claim?" Orrin asked her with a bit of a sigh.

She stuck out her chin defiantly, and said in a firm voice, "I do."

"Then it seems we have come to an impasse, for I will not back down."

"Nor shall I," she replied. The stayed staring at each other for a moment, and then Orrin looked wildly about the room at the other leaders gathered there.

"And I suppose you all are with her?" he asked angrily, his voice rising in pitch and volume. "As you always are! Why are you always against me? My people have bled and died in support of this war, and our stores have nearly been depleted in an effort to keep you all fed!"

"The Varden is grateful for your help," Nasuada said calmly, her hands clasped at her waist. "But you gave those things of your own free will." The king of Surda made to shout something else, but then Arya cut him off.

"The elves have long been friends of the Varden," she said, her voice hard as steel. "Nasuada is their leader, and any attack against her or the Varden we will consider an act of war."

"Aye, the dwarves as well," Orik said gruffly.

"We stand with Nightstalker," Nar Garzhvog said in a deep, threatening voice. Orrin looked around the room desperately, searching for an ally anywhere. His gaze lingered on me and Eragon for a split second before moving on; he knew there was no friendship here.

"Then it seems I have no choice, do I?" he growled. "I won't back down without getting something in return."

"Name your price," Nasuada said stoically. He asked for a few more cities, which Nasuada quickly counter-offered. They haggled for a few more minutes before Orrin begrudgingly deferred to her. Nasuada seemed to be alight with pride, and I thought she might have been standing a little straighter.

"The king is dead; long live the queen!" Eragon said at my side. The others in the room took up the cry, though it looked like it pained Orrin to do so. Nasuada smiled widely, but I knew she was fully aware of the monumental task that lay before her.

 

* * *

 

I hadn't slept a wink the night before, nor was I tired now. Eragon asked me to accompany him down to the quadrangle where he'd be releasing people from the oaths Galbatorix had forced them to swear. I agreed readily, happy to have something to distract me. But I should have known better than to think Eragon would leave the subject of Murtagh alone.

"How are you holding up?" he prodded as we walked through the busy streets. There seemed to be thousands of people milling about, trying to clean up as best they could and clear the bodies away. When they saw the two dragons walking behind us, they were quick to get out of way.

"Really, Eragon," I replied, a little bit agitated, "I'm fine."

"How do you expect me to believe that? I know what you two mean to one another. It was obvious how much pain you were both in when I left you yesterday, and now you seem completely unaffected." He stopped talking long enough to step around a group of people searching for their loved ones in a pile of bodies. "So tell me what's really going on," he finished forcefully.

I sighed in irritation until deciding I couldn't keep it in any longer. "Very well," I said begrudgingly, "Murtagh and I came to… an arrangement."

"An arrangement?" he asked. I heard Amera grumbling behind me and Saphira laughing quietly. Eragon looked over his shoulder quickly. "Why have you told Saphira and not me?"

" _I_ didn't tell Saphira  _anything,_ " I said pointedly, eyeing Amera. She snorted a puff of smoke over the two of us.

"Well?" he said.

"I told him," I began slowly, "that I would not fight them wanting to leave, if he promised they would come back in half a year. After that half year, if they still felt they needed to be alone, I would let them go willingly, for as long as they felt they needed."

"Tabby," he replied quietly. "What if—?"

"They never come back?" I cut him off. Amera whimpered slightly, and it did not escape Eragon's notice. "Don't you understand, Eragon? There's no one else for me; he's my forever. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same, and I'll wait as long as it takes. We've got the time."

Eragon stopped walking and faced me full on. There was a searching look in his eyes, and then he pulled me into a tight embrace. "You're sure?" he questioned.

"More sure of anything I've ever felt in my life," I whispered. He pulled away and I saw he was smiling.

"I've only ever wanted your happiness, Tabby," he said. "It became clear fairly quickly that your happiness could not be found with me, but you found it in him, for however brief a time. Now he's left, and I can't help thinking you're more hurt than you let on. But if you say you can bear it... As long as you're happy…" He didn't need to finish the thought. I smiled at him, and that was all the answer he needed. We continued on down the street and into the quadrangle. It was packed with people, but Amera and Saphira helped us get to the center without any issue.

Arya had rounded up the first group of nobles that were to be released, and Eragon positioned himself in front of them. The first man stepped forward, eyeing the two dragons nervously. Eragon used the Name without speaking and sent the man on his way. Then came the next one, and another after that and another… There seemed to be no end to them. But I stayed by Eragon's side, just in case there was any disturbance.

I began to look around the huge courtyard, at the faces of those all about me. Many were grim and downcast, though most seemed relieved to finally be free of Galbatorix's reign. I wondered how many were glad to see him gone, and I could only hope they were in the majority. I looked a bit further back, to where the massive black citadel rose up into the sky. There were many elves working within the castle to try and contain the pollution that my father's destructive spell had caused. Others were darting in and out of the building, recovering lost treasures and escorting prisoners from the dungeons.

Many of the prisoners looked emaciated, like they hadn't eaten in weeks. They were covered in dirt and grime and their faces were so sunken in that the shapes of their skulls were apparent. My heart lurched in my chest as I thought about how  _my father_ had done this to them.

A few elves were standing close by and trying to direct them where to go, handing out clean clothes and bedrolls as they passed by. They would be set up in the Varden's camp until it could be determined who they were and where they belonged. I'm sure many of them had been tortured into madness, and Nasuada would need to decide what was to be done with those ones.

Suddenly, I saw a ruckus arising from the midst of their congregation. There was shouting, and some of the elves were pushing back against a woman who was trying to break free of the crowd.

"Eragon," I said over my shoulder, never taking my eyes off the scene, "I'm going to go over there and see what's going on."

He followed my gaze and inspected the scene. "Alright, just be careful, Tabby. Take Amera with you."

"Of course," I said, striding across the courtyard as fast as I could with all the people milling about. Amera was on my heels, and the sight of her served to clear the path.

_What's going on?_ she asked urgently.

_I don't know. I just want to make sure everyone remains safe._ We couldn't take the chance of having a madwoman on the loose. If she was a magic user, I couldn't begin to imagine the kind of havoc she could cause.

When I reached the group of prisoners, the elves cast me a grateful look. "Shur'tugal," they said, still trying to restrain the screaming woman, "I'm not sure what's wrong with her. She won't stop screaming about needing to find someone." The woman lashed out with her arms, just barely missing my face by inches.

I called on my power from the recesses of my mind, allowing the purple-white light to flow over my arms and into my palms. Stepping forward and avoiding her clawing hands, I placed a hand on the side of her head in order to let the healing magic calm her down. She stopped thrashing and slumped against me, her head buried into her chest and her face covered by greasy dark hair. This poor woman looked like she'd been in the dungeons for a very long time. I wonder what it is she did to anger the king, or what she had that the king wanted.

"Where did you find this woman?" I asked one of the elves.

"It's a wonder we even did," one of them, a man, explained. "If she hadn't been screaming at the top of her lungs, we likely would never have found her. She was tucked away in the furthest recesses of the dungeons; the door to her cell was so small that it took us several minutes to even find it."

I looked back down at the pitiful creature in my arms and felt a tenderness towards her wash over me. She was mumbling something incoherent to herself. The rags she wore were nearly falling apart, so I took a blanket from one of the elves and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Can you tell me your name?" I asked her softly, trying to make my voice sound as soothing as possible.

She uttered a rasping wail, and I realized she was crying. "So long…" she mumbled in between sobs. "So dark… where is she? Where is she?"

"Where is who? Who are you looking for?" She began to rock her head backwards and forwards and curled up into herself.

"Dead… all of them dead…" She was shivering violently now. I swept her dirty hair out of her face and tried to get her to look at me, but her eyes were defiantly closed.

"Tell me your name, woman, so that I may help you." We had drawn quite a crowd by now, but I paid them no mind. I wasn't sure what it was about this woman, but I felt drawn to help her. "What is your  _name_?" Suddenly, she stopped shaking, and I saw her eyelids just barely peek open. Her face was covered in dirt, but it had been washed clean where the tracks of her tears lay. Her lips quivered as she held back her sobs. And slowly, her eyelids opened wide to look me in the face. She reached a thin hand up to caress my cheek.

My heart was beating faster than it ever had before. Her pupils were tiny pinpricks against the bright light of the sun, so their color was all too visible. I didn't think it was possible…  _No, it can't be._ But the proof was right there in front of me, in the form of those violet eyes. My voice was just a whisper, stolen away by my shock, but I managed to croak out just one word:

" _Mother?_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Lmere.... I'm awful to leave it there. I'm sorry! Don't hurt me! *ducks behind a desk at any potential flying objects*


	61. Ripples Upon the Surface

_Tabatha._

Amera's voice cut through my mind like a knife, shocking me back to myself. The woman with the striking eyes still knelt in my lap, gazing up at me in delirious wonderment, but I was so far removed from this time and this place that I barely paid her any mind. I could vaguely hear someone calling out my name, but Amera's was the only voice I truly registered.

_Tabatha, come away from there. Tabatha!_ Her voice was frantic, but I could not see her. Slowly, I stood and backed away from the woman on the ground. Arms encircled my shoulders, pulling me away from the crowd. It took me a moment to realize it was Arya that led me away. Eragon stood in front of me, directing the two elves with the blankets to take the woman away. Where it was they would take her, I had no idea.

"Come this way," Arya said, though her voice sounded muffled and far away. She was guiding me across the courtyard and through the massive crowds.

_I'm right behind you,_ Amera said, and I could hear the pounding of her footsteps behind me. By the look of terror on the faces of the people in front of me, I had to guess she was very close behind.

We exited the main gates of the citadel—or what remained of them, anyways—and headed towards one of the large row houses that had once belonged to a noble of Galbatorix's court. Nasuada had taken it over as her headquarters, until the citadel was safe to live in once more. Arya said something to the guards that flanked the front doors, and they moved aside to allow us to pass through. Inside, it was a beautiful home, decorated with tapestries and paintings, and appointed with fine materials. But I saw none of it. My mind seemed to be in a fog. I couldn't think clearly, and my feet seemed to be moving of their own accord.

Up the stairs and down a long hall we went, until finally Arya deposited me in a large bedroom, sitting me down carefully in a high-backed, plush chair. It faced a set of glass double doors that led to a wide balcony overlooking the beautiful gardens in the courtyard.

"Stay here, Tabatha," Arya said. "I will return shortly. Amera is right outside." I gazed out the glass doors and saw she was right. Amera paced back and forth on the huge balcony, peering in at me through the glass panes.

I barely noticed when Arya left the room. _Say something, Tabatha,_ Amera said quietly. She had stopped pacing, and was now seated on the marble balcony. But the tip of her tail twitched wildly, betraying what she truly felt.

_I… I don't know what to say._ Even my mental voice sounded weak, for that was exactly the way that I felt. All of my energy had been drained out of me, and every movement or thought seemed labored. _How can this be?_ I asked her.

She snorted slightly, fogging up the glass. _It seems like a cruel trick. We must investigate further before jumping to conclusions._

She seemed so sure and calculated, and I was anything but. _What else could it be?_ I asked desperately. _You saw her, Amera; you saw the color of her eyes. Why would Galbatorix have someone like that locked in his dungeon if not…_

_Calm down, Tabatha,_ she said in a soothing voice. My breathing had quickened and I heard my heart pounding in my chest. _We'll discover the truth of it, one way or another. Let us wait for Eragon and Saphira, and Nasuada as well; they will know what to do._

I felt my chest tighten involuntarily, and I buried my face in my hands. _I wish Murtagh and Thorn were here._ Amera's sadness washed over me, mingling with my own.

_So do I, little one. So do I._ We sat like that for another few moments, with our spirits wrapped around one another in comfort. But it was not long until the door to the room burst open. And through it came Nasuada, dressed in a beautiful silk dress the color of freshly spilt blood.

"Tabatha," she said, out of breath. Though be it from her quick pace or from shock, I couldn't be sure. She came over to me where I still sat in the chair and wrapped an arm around my shoulder in a very motherly gesture. "I heard what happened," she continued. "Are you alright?"

"I do not know, my lady," I muttered. "I am still a bit dazed." She nodded slightly and gave me a reassuring smile. I appreciated the gesture, but it did little to help calm the thoughts and feelings raging about inside my head.

Eragon entered the room quickly after. "Tabby," he said urgently, hastening to my side. He knelt on the floor next to the chair, causing his sword sheath to bang against the floor. I pulled away from Nasuada and allowed him to wrap me in a tight embrace.

"This doesn't feel real," I whispered. He stroked my hair comfortingly.

"The elves are looking after her right now," he said. "We'll get to the bottom of this soon, I promise." There were so many thoughts buzzing around in my head that there was no way I could put words to them. So I remained silent and allowed Eragon to hold me for a little longer. Nasuada excused herself after a while, but assured me she was right down the hall if I needed anything. Arya returned soon after.

"Anything?" Eragon asked cryptically. She shook her head and looked down at the floor. My gaze shifted between them, but I waited patiently. Whatever it was, they would tell me soon enough.

"We've been unable to divine the truth of her," Arya said quietly, her green eyes flicking up quickly to look at me. I saw the sadness there, but also the mistrust. I didn't blame her. I might have been jumping to conclusions here, but the truth seemed too obvious to ignore; for me, at least. "Her mind is a jumbled mess, Tabatha. We're getting glimpses and flashes of things, but there isn't enough evidence to make anything of it yet."

"Perhaps I could look," Eragon interjected. "Tabatha's mother grew up in Carvahall; any memories of the place, I would recognize." Arya pondered this for a moment, and then nodded slowly.

"That might be the best way," she said. I looked hopefully at Eragon, and he offered me a small smile.

"May I come with you?" I asked. I don't know why I did. I could have gone if I wanted to; I didn't need permission from Eragon, but something told me that it would be better to be compliant. After all, I wasn't altogether sure I was acting with a clear head.

Eragon and Arya shared a glance, and then he donned the look that was a tell-tale sign he was conversing with Saphira. After another moment of breathless anticipation, he said, "Yes, I think it would be good for you to come. There may be some memories that you can help shed light on." I tried to conceal the apprehension I was feeling by smiling at him. Without further ado, we all departed from the house and headed outside the city to the Varden's camp.

 

* * *

 

She was being held in one of the large tents that would have belonged to a company commander or some other high-ranking officer. There were a number of men standing guard outside the tent, and I silently thanked Nasuada's kindness. They eyed us carefully as we approached, but as soon as Eragon spoke with them, the men stepped aside. Saphira and Amera hung about the back of the tent, keeping an eye on everything.

Inside the tent, it was cozy. There was a desk over in the corner, covered in papers and scrolls, and a bed opposite that. On the edge of that bed, sat the woman who had caused all this commotion.

She was bent over, huddled under the blanket I'd given her still and staring at the dirt-covered ground. Quietly, she was muttering a string of incoherent words under her breath. Eragon held out a hand to tell Arya and me to hang back a bit, and then he walked over to the woman. He knelt before her, and extended a cautious hand to take hers. She did not fight, but I could see that the poor wretch was shivering.

"Hello," Eragon said tentatively. The woman moved her head slightly to look at him. "My name is Eragon. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm here to help. Can you tell me your name?"

She looked at him like a frightened animal, and then her gaze shifted to me and Arya. Her eyes went wide and then she turned back to Eragon. "No... no, no, no..." She was babbling again.

"Shh," Eragon said soothingly. "It's alright. They won't hurt you either. We're here to help. Can you tell me anything about yourself? Where you come from?" The woman shook her head slightly, and I saw Eragon's jaw tense. I knew he didn't want to have to delve into her mind, for fear of hurting her in this fragile state, but we were left with no other option. Slowly, he closed his eyes and put a hand up to her temple. The woman suddenly stiffened as Eragon inspected her mind. I only hoped she was not in too much pain.

After what seemed an enormous amount of time, Eragon pulled his hand away and then stood. He came back over to us, but the look on his face did not offer any encouragement.

"Well?" Arya asked quietly. Eragon shook his head.

"I can't make any sense of it. I see images of the castle, and the dungeons, and the king. But little else that makes any sense." I felt my heart drop into my stomach, and I looked back over at the woman where she sat on the bed. "Tabatha," Eragon said, drawing my gaze.

"There's another way," I said quietly. "My uncle, he might recognize her. The passage of time cannot have affected her too greatly. If she is..."

"I'll fetch him," Arya suddenly chimed in, hurrying out of the tent. Eragon looked at me sympathetically, but there were no words that could offer me comfort in this situation. Until I knew for sure, my nerves were going to remain a jumbled mess.

Not a quarter of an hour later, Arya returned and she beckoned me outside. "I did not explain anything to him," she said quietly. "I thought I'd leave that to you."

"Thank you," I whispered, and I really meant it. She stayed in the tent with Eragon while I went out to meet my uncle beyond the guards. He looked positively perplexed, and he wrung his big, strong hands in front of him nervously.

"Gods above, Tabatha. What's going on? Why have I been summoned here by an elf?" His voice rose with his panic, but I found I could not do much to soothe his anxiety. My own anxiety was threatening to overwhelm me.

"Uncle Horst," I said as calmly as I possibly could, "I need you to listen to me. There is a woman inside this tent. Her mind is very sick, and we are having a hard time gleaning any information about her from her memories. I had hoped you might be able to identify her by sight."

"Why would you think that?" he asked, coming closer to me and putting his hands on my shoulders.

"Because..." I paused for a moment, steeling myself against the tears brimming in my eyes. "Because, Uncle... I believe she is my mother... your sister." In all my years of living with my uncle, I'd never seen him look as frightened or shocked as he did now. His dark eyes were wide with fear, and his large hands shook where they rested on me. He didn't say anything, but only walked past me into the tent. I followed closely behind.

As we came into the tent, Arya and Eragon stood off to the side. Uncle Horst didn't even look at them; his eyes were trained solely on the woman who sat upon the bed. He slowly walked over to her and knelt in the dirt at her feet. Reaching up a calloused hand, he pushed the long, dark hair away from her face and took hold of her chin, angling her head so that she'd be forced to look at him. I noticed his shoulders shaking slightly, and I realized my heart was beating so fast I thought it might burst out of my chest.

My uncle was a large man, and strong from working a forge nearly all his life; I'd never seen him cry in all my years... until now. He let out a sob and doubled over so that his chin was tucked into his chest. Then he raised his head once more and put a hand on the woman's cheek. "Adelaide..." he whispered, and there was a smile upon his face. My heart plummeted into my stomach as my suspicions were confirmed. I felt as though I might faint, and I had to steady myself against one of the poles that supported the tent.

The woman stared at him in confusion for a moment, and then she said, "Father?" My uncle faltered, but only a moment.

"No, Adelaide. It's me, Horst... your brother," he explained slowly. She reached a tentative hand up to his face and stroked his beard.

"You've grown whiskers," she said, her voice raspy from disuse. "And old..." Eragon was at my side, helping to steady me so that I didn't fall.

"How can this be?" my uncle said, laughing through his tears. There was joy in his dark eyes, but also confusion and fear. "You were dead. They told us you were dead."

"Uncle," I said quietly, drawing his attention away. He stood and came to me when he noticed the look upon my face. "We must question her slowly. She thought you were Grandfather Ostrec at first. I do not believe she realizes how much time has passed."

"Let us find out for sure," Horst said, taking me by the arm. Slowly, he led me over to the bed, and we both knelt down before her. "Adelaide," he began slowly, "do you know who this is?"

My mother inspected my face, staring at me long and hard. But the longer she remained quiet, the more my heart began to ache. I knew she wouldn't recognize me... "No," she finally whispered, looking back at my uncle.

"This is Tabatha." She started at that, and looked back at me, her brow furrowed in confusion. "This is your daughter."

"No... No, no, that cannot be," she said, backing further up onto the bed and into the fabric side of the tent. I felt Amera offering me feelings of strength from outside the tent. "Where is my baby? Where is my Tabatha?"

"Mother..." I said weakly, feeling the tears escaping from my eyes and blurring my vision. "It's me. I'm right here."

"Tabby," Eragon said from behind me. He placed a hand around my arm and hauled me to my feet, leading me away from my mother and my uncle. "It will do no good to overwhelm her. You must give her time."

"She does not know me, Eragon." My voice sounded pitiful and defeated, and I felt as though I was walking around in a daze.

"She will, Tabatha. We will do whatever we can to restore her memory and get to the bottom of this." I looked up at him and offered my thanks, but a cold pit was still forming in my stomach.

"Wait a moment..." I said, suddenly coming to a realization. "There's someone else that could possibly jog her memory."

"Who?" he asked.

"Stay here, and I'll bring him. I'll be right back." With that, I hurried out of the tent, a new energy fueling my steps.

_Tabatha, where are you going?_ Amera asked in concern.

_I'll return shortly, Amera, don't worry. I just need to find someone who I think can help._ She made me promise to be careful and then I withdrew contact, hurrying deep into the camp and across to the section that housed the soldiers from Surda.

 

* * *

 

I was having a harder time finding him than I thought. The camp was a frenzy of activity, and everyone was running about doing some task or another. I found myself outside of the infirmary, and I ducked inside, hoping my instincts were right. When I walked in, I was taken aback by the air of death that hung over the place. I looked around the large tent until I found who I searched for.

"Isabelle!" I called. Her blond curls bounced around wildly as she searched for the person who'd called her name. When her eyes landed on me, I was surprised to see the happiness on her face. She threw down the roll of bandages she'd been holding and wiped her hands on her apron before coming over to me.

"Tabatha!" she exclaimed. "You're alright! I feared the worst when I hadn't seen you."

"Yes, I'm fine. Are you alright?"

"There's much to be done here, but physically, I'm unharmed." I was glad of that, though I didn't have any time to waste.

"Isabelle, I need to find Lord Braeden. Do you know where he is?" I asked breathlessly.

"Yes, Tabby," she said, her voice suddenly shifting. "He's here, in the infirmary. He was wounded during the course of the battle."

"Take me to him." She led me through the myriad of beds and cots and stretchers to the very back of the tent. There was a long row of beds that were all full with injured men and women, and we headed down the row almost to the very end. At the second to last bed, Isabelle stopped.

Braeden lay in the bed, his right leg suspended in a sling. It was wrapped in bandages, but I could see where the blood was soaking through just above his knee. He looked up at our arrival, and when his eyes fell upon me, I saw the breath leave his body and tears well in his eyes.

"Tabatha," he whispered, reaching out a hand to me. I hurried to his bedside and took up his hand, reaching my arm around his neck to embrace him as well as I could. "Thank the gods you're alright."

"Yes, I'm fine. How are you feeling? What happened?"

He laughed lightly, though I could tell it was slightly strained. "A stray arrow, unfortunately. But Isabelle assures me I'll survive." He smiled fondly at her, but then shifted his gaze back to me. After inspecting my face a moment, he said, "But I think you are not only here to check in on me. What is it, Tabatha? What's happened?" I didn't know how to put it into words. I was overcome with a mix of sadness and joy and fear, and the words caught in my throat.

Finally, I let them out with a laugh, saying, "I don't know how to tell you this, Braeden. A miracle has happened." He inspected my face, the apprehension clear in his eyes. "We found her in the dungeons. My mother... she's alive." Braeden's grip on my hand tightened, squeezing all the blood out of my fingers. His jaw trembled slightly as he searched for the words.

"Take me to her," he said simply, his voice quavering only slightly.

"Lord Braeden, I don't know if that's the best idea, in your current condition—" He cut Isabelle off with a wave of his hand.

"Fetch me a cane. I can walk," he said firmly. The tone of his voice did not leave any room for argument, so Isabelle scampered off. She returned not long after with a set of crutches. She helped to move Braeden out of the bed, and then situated the crutches under his arms. With great effort, he pushed up off the bed and balanced on the crutches until he was stable enough to walk.

It was slow going, but we weaved our way through the camp back to the tent where my mother was. All the while, Braeden was deathly silent. I could see the thoughts and feelings roiling about in his head, but he never gave voice to them. I knew what it was like to discover that someone you loved was alive after you'd thought them dead, but seventeen _years..._ I could not begin to imagine the depth of his pain in this moment.

Finally, we returned to the commander's tent. Braeden took a deep breath when we stopped out front. "Are you ready?" I asked. He merely nodded and then went through the flaps. I followed close behind, as did Isabelle.

My uncle was still there, sitting beside my mother on the bed and holding her hand. She was looking at him, away from the tent opening, and they seemed to be speaking. When we three entered, they fell silent, and I saw the shock upon my uncle's face. My mother turned then, to stare at the newcomers. Her gaze passed over Isabelle disinterestedly, but when she saw Braeden... A light came into her eyes, and I heard her gasp quietly. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked at him.

"Braeden," she whispered. He hobbled over to her and stood at the end of the bed.

"Hello, Adelaide," he said quietly, gazing at her with a smile upon his face. "It's been a long time."

"I... I don't know," she replied. "I don't know where I am or what's happened. Who are all these people?"

Slowly, Braeden came around and leaned his crutches against the bed before sitting next to her. My mother looked up at him and placed a hand on his cheek. "I have missed you," Braeden said quietly, putting an arm around her shoulder. "I'm going to help you remember, Adelaide. It's going to be hard work, and it may take some time, but I'm going to help you. Do you think you can do that for me?" She looked like a small child, held there in his arms. But she eventually nodded and then buried her face in his chest. He held her there and stroked her hair as she cried.

Gazing upon the two of them, I felt my heart clench in my chest. I still wasn't sure how to process all of this, and my entire body still felt numb, but I allowed myself a small smile. Eragon came over to me and led me out of the tent.

"I'll speak to Nasuada about getting her set up in one of the row houses," he said quietly. "How are you doing?"

I took a moment to respond. "I... I don't really know, to be honest. None of this seems real yet. But I think, after some rest, I'll be fine. I only hope she'll come to realize who I am, in time."

"She will, Tabatha." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me in for a hug, and I was thankful for the warmth. As he held me, I finally allowed myself to let out the tears I'd been holding in all day. My chest was wracked with sobs.

When they finally subsided, I said, "I wish Murtagh was here." Eragon held me tighter.

"I know, Tabby. I know..." It took a few more moments for the sobs to disappear completely, but when they did, Eragon pulled away and looked down at me, offering a small smile. "Come," he said, "let's find ourselves something to eat and then we can all get some much needed rest."

_Do you need me?_ Amera asked. She and Saphira were still hidden behind the large tent.

_No, Amera, I'll be fine. You and Saphira should find something to eat. I know it's been since yesterday that you've eaten._ She harrumphed slightly, but then conceded. I saw the two dragons lift up into the air from behind the tent and then fly off over the camp to the waiting grasslands. As our connection waned, and then fell away completely, I couldn't help but feel that same emptiness return to my chest. I felt as though I was adrift at sea without a sail, and Eragon was the only thing tethering me to reality, now that Amera was gone. And even though I missed Murtagh terribly, and wanted him by my side in this moment, I was glad to have my best friend to get me through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, did that make up for the cliffhanger from the last chapter? Please comment and let me know what you think! :-)


	62. A Rider's Duty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can thank Lmere for this speedy update. Next one should be out on Sunday; I'll shoot for 2pmET

It only made sense for me to stay in the row house Nasuada had taken up. Eragon would be there too, until the citadel was safe once again; it was not far from the citadel, and the dragon hold where Amera and Saphira would stay. I was thankful that Nasuada was showing me such kindness, in light of all that had happened over the past couple of days. Without some sense of stability, I feared I was going to lose my mind.

I'd visited my mother at least once a day, though only for a very short time. While she had realized who she was, and had recognized Braeden and my uncle, she was still very confused and too many questions at one time sent her spiraling into panic. So, I kept my distance as best I could. Braeden and my uncle kept me updated on her condition, as well as the elf-woman, who'd been given charge of her care, named Thëa. They had moved my mother to a different row house, across the quadrangle from the one I was staying in, so it was not very difficult to keep up to date on what was happening with her care. Thëa was kind, and spoke to me softly; she realized that I was just as traumatized by this.

On the sixth day after we'd discovered her, I spent a little more time than usual with my mother, although Braeden was there. He thought it might be good for me to try and speak with her now, though he insisted on being there in case she went into one of her episodes. After the messenger had come to me at the row house, I hurried out into the quadrangle. It was not so packed with people today, so I had an easy time crossing it.

Amera reached out to me from the dragon hold. _Be safe, Tabatha,_ she said. I assured her there was nothing to worry about and then hurried into the great house. It was not nearly as nice as the one Nasuada had taken residence in, but it was still a beautiful home. My mother had her rooms on the second floor, and I sprinted up the grand staircase, turning sharply to run down the east wing. When I came to her room, I opened the door softly, not wishing to frighten her.

Braeden sat in a chair across from her, a small tea table set in between them. He looked up at my arrival and beckoned me over. Tentatively, I crossed the large room to stand before them. My mother had been scrubbed and cleaned, and given clothing suitable to wear. I couldn't believe how different she looked. She looked... well, she looked just like me, only a little older and more weathered. There were a few cuts on her face and hands, and she was terribly thin. Whatever tortures she had endured over the past seventeen years, I could not begin to imagine the toll they'd taken on her.

"Adelaide," Braeden said softly, "I've brought you a visitor." There was another chair set up at the table, so I took my seat and looked expectantly between the two of them. My mother turned her gaze on me.

"Hello," she said softly. "I recognize you." My heart leapt in my chest for a moment, until she said, "You have visited me often over the last few days. You are very kind." Her voice was soft and timid, and her gaze was vacant.

"Yes, I... wanted to see how you were doing. Are you feeling any better?" I asked.

"Much, thank you." I looked at Braeden woefully, but he gave me an encouraging smile.

"Adelaide, I'm going to ask you some questions about your past now, is that alright?" My mother looked up at him. Her dark hair was swept back from her face and secured in a bun, so I could clearly see the apprehension in her face. "You don't have to, if you don't want to."

She chewed on her lower lip for a moment. Finally, she said, "I will answer your questions as best I can." Braeden seemed to take heart from that answer, so he continued on.

"Very well. Adelaide, do you know where you are?"

"I am in Urû'baen, the capital."

"Yes, excellent. Now, do you remember where it is you came from?"

She hesitated, staring down at the table. Her hands were folded in her lap, but I saw her beginning to twiddle her fingers nervously. "I..."

"Take your time," Braeden said soothingly.

"I believe it was a small village... i-in the mountains. Was it... Carvahall?"

"Yes, that's exactly right." I saw the hope spring forth in Braeden's eyes, and I couldn't help but feel it too. "And you know who I am?"

"You're Braeden; you're my best friend." Braeden nodded approvingly. "And my brother is here too, though he looks... different. Why does he look like our father?"

"We'll get to that soon, I promise. Now, do you remember how you came to the capital?"

My mother's eyes suddenly went wide, and I saw her hands trembling where she held them in her lap. "My husband..." she whispered, her voice quivering slightly. "He brought me here... nearly five years ago."

"And do you know how you came to be in the dungeons?"

"I tried to run away," she said. She looked down at the table, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tried to remember. "I... I had a son, didn't I? And a daughter... a baby girl." Braeden reached a hand across the table, and, very slowly, my mother brought her hand up to place it in his. She looked at him and he affirmed what she'd said. I felt my heartbeat quickening in my chest and my hands beginning to shake. Would she go into another of her episodes? "Where are they?" she suddenly said forcefully. "I want to see them."

"Later, Adelaide. I have a few more questions for you." She looked torn, but finally assented. "Do you remember why you tried to run away?"

"It was my husband," she began slowly. "He... was not who he claimed to be. He told me he was a minor lord with small holdings, and that his presence was required at court. But... I found out he was really... the king of Alagaësia." Suddenly, she seemed to be stricken with fear, and I worried that her panic was coming on. "Where is he, Braeden? Did he find her? Did he find my daughter?"

Braeden gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "No, Adelaide, he did not." Then Lord Braeden looked over at me, his eyes questioning. With the slightest of nods, I let him know it would be alright. "Adelaide," he began softly, "if you think you are ready, I would like to explain to you what has happened. Do you think you are prepared?" My mother pondered this for a long time, and I saw every feeling and question flash across her face. Then she glanced in my direction, looking at me skeptically out of the corner of her eye.

"Why is she here?" she asked.

"I'll explain everything. Now, you know that you came from Carvahall, and that your husband was the king. You also know you had a son and a daughter... Do you know how old they are?"

"Léod is four, and Tabatha is just an infant; only a few months old." I felt my heart breaking for my mother.

Braeden heaved a sigh, steeling himself for what was to come. "Adelaide, I'm going to tell you something, and it may be difficult for you to process."

"Tell me what?" She looked like a frightened doe that had spotted the hunter that had her in his sights. I wanted so badly to say something, but I knew this would be better coming from Braeden himself.

"You are under the impression that very little time has passed since you were put into captivity," he started slowly, trying to discern the best way to say this. "But that is an after-effect of the torture that you endured at Galbatorix's hand. In reality, it has been many years."

I saw the breath hitch in my mother's chest. "How long?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Braeden gripped her hand tighter, and I saw the sympathy locked in his eyes. "It has been over seventeen years, Adelaide." My heart broke when I saw how her shoulders began to shake, and the tears that sprang to her eyes. Her chin began to tremble as the tears escaped, and a tortured sob burst from her throat.

"No," she cried, shaking her head vehemently. "No, that cannot be. I... I don't..." She broke down in tears then, her words stolen away by her sobs. Braeden stood and slowly hobbled to her side. His leg was healing quickly with aid from the elven spellcasters, but he would have a limp for the rest of his life. He leaned down and pulled her into his side, cradling her like he would a child.

"Shh," he said softly, stroking her head in a comforting gesture. I was crying as well, though I made an effort to hold it in. Who knows how much more I would upset her if she saw me? After what seemed like forever, my mother's cries subsided, and she pulled away from Braeden. She wiped at her face, and then turned her red-rimmed eyes on me. For a long while, she inspected my face and I sat there in tortured silence. Would she know me?

Finally, she turned back to Braeden and looked up where he stood over her. "Is this...?" She let the question fade away; there was no need to finish. Braeden gave her a small smile and then nodded.

"Yes, Adelaide. This is your daughter... This is Tabatha." She turned her head around swiftly, and I saw more tears there.

"Tabatha," she whispered.

"Yes, mother," I finally said, choking back my tears. "It's me." There was still confusion and questions in her eyes, but she reached out her arms to me. I nearly leapt out of my chair and fell at her feet, wrapping my arms around her middle and burying my face in her chest. That was when I allowed my tears to be let loose. They cascaded down my face, accompanied by sobs and tremors. For a while, I just sat there crying into her chest while she held me. I didn't know what to say, or what else to do. But eventually, I pulled away and looked up at her.

She moved a lock of dark hair out of my face, and then caressed my cheek while gazing into my eyes. And then, I witnessed a sight I had only been able to dream about until now: she smiled at me. "Of course you are," she said. "Look at you." She was still crying, but I had to hope and believe they were tears of happiness now.

"Mother..." I said, not really knowing what else to say. It felt so good to actually say that. I'd never been able to before. I let out a little laugh, feeling my chest brim over with happiness and needing to release it somehow.

"I can't believe you are here," she whispered. "And what of your brother? Where is he?" At those words, my heart dropped into my stomach and the smile disappeared from my face. She searched my eyes, but then the smile disappeared from her face as well. She looked over her shoulder at Braeden, and noticed the apologetic look on his face.

"Tabatha, I think it's best you leave. Your mother is very tired," Braeden said. I nodded slightly and then stood up, though I still held onto my mother's hand.

"I'll come back tomorrow," I told her. She was still looking at Braeden though, and did not seem to hear me.

"Braeden?" she said, her voice full of hurt. "Where is he? Where is my son?" I retreated from the room as fast as I could, my shame overwhelming me and forcing my feet to move. When I was in the hallway and the door was shut behind me, I leaned against the door and laid my head on it, closing my eyes. I sucked in a deep breath. It was not long before my mother's strangled cries filled the house, echoing off the walls and etching themselves into my memory.

 

* * *

 

Nasuada asked me to join her for dinner that evening. My whole body felt numb, and I walked around the house in a daze, but I knew I could not refuse. Eragon would be there as well, so I had a feeling she wished to request something of us. No matter my own personal tragedies, I still had a duty to perform.

So, I prepared myself to dine with the new queen of Alagaësia. After the harrowing events of today, I decided a hot bath would do me good. I rang for one of the servants and asked them to prepare me a bath and then decided what I'd wear. My usual garb of a tunic and breeches wouldn't do for dinner with the monarch. I didn't have much else, but the house I was staying in had once housed a girl that seemed to be about my size. I rifled through her wardrobe in a different bedroom and found a dress I thought would be suitable. It had a full skirt made of pink tulle and a sleeveless bodice of black satin with little crystals set in looping patterns. I wouldn't have worn it if I didn't think I needed to, but it would have to do.

I returned to my room and set it down on the bed, then found that the bath was ready and waiting for me. There were still a few hours yet until dinner would be served, so I took my time in the tub. I let the hot water soothe and relax my aching muscles, and then scrubbed my hair with some of the foreign soaps and lathered it with a softening cream. It felt good to pamper myself; something that was so out of the ordinary for me helped to snap me out of the daze I'd been in since this morning. Once I figured I was sufficiently clean, I exited the tub and dried off with one of the plush towels hanging near the door. There was also a silk robe, so I donned that instead of putting on my dirty clothes again.

After that, I returned to my room and sat for a while with the doors to the balcony open. It was autumn now, but the air was not so chilly as to be unenjoyable. I tried to occupy my mind by reading while I let my hair dry, but I was too distracted to focus on the text. So instead, I set the book aside and just closed my eyes, trying to will my body to relax. It worked for a time. I sat in the chair and just listened to the sounds of the outside world. The balcony overlooked the inner courtyard of the house, but I could hear the sounds of the city beyond. It was not as merry as the last time I'd been here, but I had hope that it would be again someday soon.

An hour or so later, I prepared myself for dinner, even going so far as to put a little makeup on. I called for one of Nasuada's maids to help me with the dress, and after she left I went about the task of trying to tame my hair. I hadn't cut it since I'd left Carvahall nearly two years ago, and it now reached down almost to my hips. I didn't mind though; it felt good to run my fingers through it and brushing it out helped to relax me even further. I settled for leaving it mostly unbound to flow freely down my back, braiding it on the sides to keep it out of my face. When that task was finished, I glanced out the window and saw that twilight had fallen over the city.

I put on a pair of satin slippers I'd retrieved from the girl's room—though they were about a half size too big—and then left my room. The dining room was on the main level, across from the study, and when I entered I saw that Nasuada and Eragon were already there, as were Jörmundur and Elva. The little with-child was the first to notice my arrival, but she said nothing. When Eragon saw me, I thought his jaw might fall off with how quickly it fell open.

"Tabatha," he said in surprise, "you're certainly dressed up."

"We are dining with the queen, Eragon. Or did you forget?" Nasuada gave me a small smile. We all stood away from the table, but as I was here now, Nasuada motioned for us all to be seated.

Eragon followed me, his hands clasped behind his back. I noticed he was wearing a nicer tunic than usual, so at least he'd taken _some_ care with his appearance. "You look lovely," he whispered.

"And you don't look so bad yourself," I quipped back.

"How did it go with your mother today?" I stiffened at that, but regained my composure quickly.

"I'll tell you about it later," I whispered. We'd come to the table and Eragon pulled out a chair for me next to where he would sit to Nasuada's left. Jörmundur sat to her right and Elva sat beside him. Once everyone was seated, the side door opened and a few servants brought in the platters for dinner. It seemed Nasuada had ordered a few hens and potatoes, as well as some greens and other vegetables. In comparison to eating almost nothing but stew for the last six months, my mouth was positively watering at the sight before me.

"I've invited you all to dinner in order to discuss plans for the future of this Empire," Nasuada began, looking at Eragon, Jörmundur, and I in turn. "But politics can wait 'til after we've eaten." By her leave, we all began to portion our plates and eat the sumptuous meal. We engaged in small talk for most of the meal, and when that was done we all retired to the study across the entrance hall. A serving maid poured us all goblets of wine and we took our seats at the round table where Nasuada held most of her meetings with her advisors.

"Any news on the progress of cleaning up the citadel?" Eragon asked, taking a small sip from his goblet.

"They are making a good headway. I am told it should be ready within the next week," Jörmundur replied. "I am anxious for Nasuada to take up residence there. It is not safe in this undefended house."

"Have there been any threats?" I questioned.

"None so far, but I'm not so naïve to think they will not come," he replied in a gruff voice.

"Tabatha and I will protect you, Your Majesty," Eragon chimed in. "You have nothing to fear."

"Well, I'm glad you bring that up, Eragon," she began. "I've called you two here specifically because I wish to discuss your duties, now that the war has been won."

"What do you have in mind, my lady?" he asked. I wasn't sure why, but I was beginning to feel slightly nervous.

"There are whispers of rebellion stirring throughout the Empire, not to mention the numerous other cities that need to be cleansed of Galbatorix's spells and oaths," she said. Her brow was creased right between her eyebrows, and I had to think that these whispers might have been louder than she was letting on. "Fairly soon, I will need the two of you to go out and squash these rumors, and to release the people from whatever oaths they have sworn. We must show that we are not weak, and will not be cowed by a few insubordinate lords." I felt my heartbeat quicken and my nervousness reach an all time high.

"When do you want us to leave?" Eragon questioned. Underneath the table, he reached over and clasped my hand where I was picking at the material of my skirt. He gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"As soon as you are able, if at all possible," she said. Her dark eyes shifted to me, and I saw the pity in her stare. "I am sorry to do this to you now, Tabatha, as I know the situation with your mother. But I need you and Eragon to do your duty as Riders. We cannot risk entering another conflict after so recently ending one. It shouldn't take you more than a few weeks to release Galbatorix's oaths and spells. I will personally make sure that she is well taken care of."

My breath was coming quickly to my chest, and I knew that there was no way I could refuse. However much I did not want to leave, I knew I had no choice. This was part of my duty as a Dragon Rider, and I could not shirk my responsibilities right out of the gate. "Of course, Your Majesty," I said, bowing my head slightly. "I will do what I must. And I thank you for looking after my mother." She gave me a smile, and then Eragon released my hand.

They spoke a while longer about the places we would be going, but I barely heard anything they said. I was too wrapped up in my head with thoughts of my mother. I'd only just gotten her back, and now I would have to leave her again. I only hoped that my leaving would not cause her to slip back into madness once more.


	63. Dousing the Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note: I've monkeyed with the timeline a bit for my own plot purposes. If you have any questions, feel free to ask in the comments. Enjoy!

We made plans to depart the capital three days later. I hadn't gotten up enough courage to tell my mother or Braeden yet, but I knew I could not avoid it much longer. I hadn't gone to see her today, for fear that I would lose my nerve and shame myself.

 _Sometimes it is easier to just get the hurt out of the way, instead of letting it linger and making it harder to tell them,_ Amera said from where she sat beside me. We were high up in the dragon hold, sitting on the landing that extended from the cave Amera had taken up as her own. It was about midway up the beehive, and smaller than the one Murtagh and Thorn had lived in, but still very large. I had visited their cave when I first came here, reminiscing about the last time I'd been there, but had not been back since. All of his things were still there; his bed; his books; his clothing. It was a stark reminder of his absence, and it did no good for me to dwell on it.

_I know, Amera. I'm just afraid. I don't want to be the reason she snaps._

_You don't know that she will,_ Amera countered, snorting slightly.  _You're creating that scenario in your head and then fixating on it. In reality, you don't know what her reaction will be. Just go down there tomorrow morning and tell her you'll be gone for a couple weeks, and you will see her upon your return._

 _But I don't know that it_ will  _only be a couple of weeks,_ I shot back, slightly irritated.  _Nasuada said it could be a month, but that's not to say it might be even longer._

_There are people here who will take care of her. She is not alone._

_And what if she slips away while I'm gone, or something awful happens? I won't forgive myself._

_This is out of our control, Tabatha,_ Amera snapped forcefully.  _You must accept that. Nasuada has all but ordered us to go, and we must do her bidding. It is our duty as Rider and dragon._

I fell quiet for a little bit, just gazing out over the city as the sun set over the western wall. The whole place was bathed in a soft orange glow, and I could just glimpse the little flicker of candles being lit all over the city.  _You are right, as usual,_ I finally conceded.  _I will go to her tomorrow and tell her that my duty calls me away._ Amera snorted to show her approval and then I saw a flash of blue streak in front of us.

 _Looks like Eragon and Saphira have returned from checking on the Eldunarí. Shall we greet them?_ Amera stood up from where she was laying down and shook her body like a wet dog. I joined her and we walked back into her cave. She had chosen a fairly large cave—made for a much bigger dragon than her, anyways—so she easily fit through the opening that led into the cavernous middle of the hive. I alighted into her saddle, not bothering with the leg straps, and she floated us down a few rows to the cave where Saphira was staying. She dropped down onto the small landing that served as the cave's opening, and then I jumped off her back.

Eragon was just unstrapping himself from Saphira's saddle when I entered the cave. He called out a greeting to both of us, and then hopped down onto the outside landing.

"How did it go?" I asked.

"As well as can be expected," he replied. "The Eldunarí are very confused, and many of them have lost a lot of their memories. It will take time for Blödgharm and the others to restore them to their former selves, if that's even possible. Only time will tell."

"But it does not sound like all hope is lost," I replied with as much encouragement in my voice as I could muster.

"No, not  _all_ hope, to be sure." He smiled down at me and then turned back to Saphira, presumably to speak to her.

 _We're going hunting,_ Amera said as she loped past me.

 _Have fun. Be careful, and don't stray too far._ She snapped her teeth at me, as though to say "Of course!" and then the two dragons were back in the air. They certainly were a beautiful sight to behold; like two jewels floating through the sky.

"Well, shall we?" Eragon said, offering me his arm. I laughed and gladly took it as he led us out of the cave. When we got to the small landing inside the cavern, he spoke a few words in the ancient language until we floated in the air just above the stone outcrop. Then, with a few more words, we were floating down to the floor of the beehive. I felt much better when my feet were on solid ground once more.

"What other duties require your attention this evening?" I asked him playfully. We walked down the stairs of the tower at a brisk pace until we exited to the ruined courtyard of the citadel. It was empty of all people, now that it had been cleared of the pollution. And since the castle was currently uninhabited, there was no one around.

"Shockingly, nothing," Eragon replied. "Would you care to join me for supper?"

"And where will we get this supper?" I teased.

"Well, I hear that Tara makes a delicious pot of stew for the villagers from Carvahall every night. Perhaps we should join our friends and family?"

Although the prospect of eating more stew was not enticing, I said, "Yes, I'd like that very much." The prospect of spending time amongst the people of our village was enticing enough.

 

* * *

 

Eragon was right: the stew was very good. It wasn't surprising though, as Tara was Morn's wife and had cooked for the tavern regularly. But the company was even better. With the weight of our goal lifted off their shoulders, the villagers seemed to be back to their old selves, for the most part. There were a few who carried the haunted look of a warrior whose dreams were full of the battles they'd fought, but many seemed relieved to be through with this conflict. The only thing that was missing was a home.

From what Roran had told us, most if not all of Carvahall had been destroyed. Now they'd have to decide if they would return and try to rebuild, or if it would be easier to settle somewhere else. I hoped that wherever they ended up, they would be happy.

"Tabby!" my aunt called from across the green. I pushed through the crowds milling about and joined her and my cousins at a wooden table.

"Hello, Aunt Elain, Albriech, Baldor." I sat down at the table next to my aunt and peeked at my little baby cousin in her arms. The girl seemed to be sleeping, but how she could with all this racket was a miracle to me. "Where's Uncle Horst?"

"He's with your mother, I believe," Aunt Elain replied. "How are you holding up, Tabby?"

I looked up into her caring blue eyes. "I'm doing alright. Still a bit in shock, but mostly happy. I just can't believe she's really been alive all this time. It doesn't make any sense. Why would he keep her alive?"

"We may never know, Tabatha. But we must thank the gods that she has been returned to us." The rest of the night passed in pleasant conversation with my family and friends, but there was a constant, niggling feeling at the back of my head, making me worry about the task I would have to do tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

 _Good luck, Tabatha,_ Amera said from up in the dragon hold. Our connection was weak, so I could only just make out her voice, but she sent me feelings of calm and reassurance. I sent her back feelings of thanks and then made my way across the quadrangle to the row house where my mother was staying. As slowly as I dared, I made my way up to her room and tentatively opened the door. My uncle was there with her, and I was thankful that I wouldn't have to break the news to her by myself.

"Hello, Uncle Horst. Hello, Mother," I said softly, closing the heavy door behind me.

"Tabatha," my mother said, reaching out a hand for me as I walked over to her. When I reached the place where she was sitting, I took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.

"How are you feeling today?" I asked, running a hand down the side of her face and inspecting the cuts that were there. They seemed to be healing nicely, though there would be scars.

"I'm... faring well. There is still some pain... and the memories do not come easily to me, but I am doing as well as I can be." I nodded at that and offered a small smile. I was thankful in this moment that Braeden had not mentioned it had been at my hand that her son was dead.

"I'm glad to hear it," I said softly. As I tried to search for the words to tell her, I found none would come to me.

My reluctance must have shown on my face, for she said, "What is it, Tabatha? Is something wrong?" I chanced a look up at my uncle, and he walked over to put a strong hand on my mother's shoulder.

Slowly, I knelt down so we were looking eye-to-eye. "I have been called away, Mother. Queen Nasuada has asked that Eragon and I help in quieting a few rebellions in the south. It will not take long, I promise. As soon as our task is finished, I will return."

Her eyes had gone wide, and I saw the fear in them. "You are leaving me?"

"Only for a time. I have responsibilities that I need to take care of, and Nasuada has promised she will look in on you while I am gone." My mother gripped my hand tighter, so that my knuckles turned white from the force.

"Adelaide," Horst said, his voice a deep rumble. "It will only be a few weeks." It took her another few moments, but she nodded slightly. When I saw the fear ebb away from her face, I let out a little sigh of relief. My worst fears had been avoided.

I stood again and then wrapped my arms around her neck, hugging her only as tightly as I dared. "I love you, Mother," I whispered. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."

 

* * *

 

The day of our departure arrived, and I found that I felt better than I had a couple days ago. Eragon seemed excited to be going as well. Up until this point, we hadn't had much opportunity to do the traditional duties of a Rider.

"All ready?" he asked as he fiddled with a few of the straps on Saphira's saddle.

"I believe so," I said, standing next to Amera as I had finished preparing nearly half an hour ago. Eragon gave me a sheepish grin and then closed up the last of his saddlebags. Although we'd both changed so much, I saw little glimmers of the farmboy every now and then. "Where are we headed first?"

"Dras-Leona," he replied, and I felt my heartbeat quicken in my chest. After all that had happened, I found myself hating that place in particular. "Galbatorix's hold was strongest there. Apparently there are many lords who are unhappy. I'm hoping that by releasing the spells, their ire will be calmed."

"We shall see," I muttered quietly to myself.

We departed quickly from the city, and headed north to the estate where the Eldunarí my father had kept under his control were being held. Eragon left half of the Eldunarí from Vroengard there with them. He hoped that those Eldunarí could aid the others in coming back to themselves. We departed from them after only an hour and went on to Dras-Leona.

The city still stank, but as the spires of its buildings came into our view, I couldn't help thinking it looked a little changed. Like a cloud had been lifted that had hung there for so long. I'd never realized how visible Galbatorix's hold on everything truly was. We did not linger for very long in Dras-Leona; only long enough for Eragon to release the people and the city from numerous spells while Amera and I acted the enforcers. With the presence of two dragons inside their walls, the citizens and lords were more than willing to cooperate. With the spells that had bound them gone, the people were happy to submit to Nasuada's new reign.

Belatona and Aroughs were much the same. The people were willing and compliant—even grateful to be free of the Empire's yoke—and we left them with a renewed sense of accomplishment. Feinster, however, was another story.

It was our last day in Feinster, and it had been full of releasing oaths and undoing spells. We'd decided to stop at a popular tavern in town for a quick drink before we got on our way. The tavern was loud and full of people, but they all seemed to be laughing and socializing congenially. The barkeep brought us our ales and then bustled back over to the bar where a particularly rowdy group of men had just started bellowing out a folk song. I looked over at the drunken antics, and couldn't help the giggle that escaped me.

Suddenly, Eragon slammed his drink down and vaulted out of his chair, sending it crashing to the floor. I looked up at him in alarm, as did several other people around us.

"Eragon," I called, "what is it?" He was looking about the room wildly, and then I noticed a serving maid dart out from behind the bar and out a side door. Eragon sprinted after her, and I did not waste any time following him.

We raced out the side door into an alley full of crates, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Beyond the alley, the streets were full of people, and when we entered the crowd I soon realized it would be impossible to find her in this mess.

"What happened back there?" I said in between breaths.

"The drink was poisoned," Eragon spat, wiping at his mouth roughly. "My wards protected me, but I have no doubt your drink was poisoned as well. Did you drink any?"

"No, I never got a chance."

"Good," he replied shortly. We didn't linger in the city any longer after that. Amera and Saphira met us outside the city gates and we departed with the intention of heading back to Urû'baen.

 

* * *

 

Midway between Feinster and Urû'baen, Eragon contacted me.

 _I'd like to change our course, if you're in agreement,_ he said tentatively. To the west, I could just make out the cityscape of Dras-Leona, and that's when I realized what he was after.

 _Of course, Eragon,_ I replied.  _Can you remember where it is?_

 _Saphira thinks she can._ With that, Saphira angled her wings to the east and pulled away from us. I let Amera know what was going on and she swiftly followed behind the sapphire dragon. We searched for about an hour in the limestone hills, but then I saw the opening of a cave in the side of one hill, and knew instantly that was where Brom was buried. The two dragons spiraled down to the summit of the hill, and Eragon and I alighted onto the stone.

It looked much the same as the last time we'd been here. I felt my heart lurch at the memories, and tears spring to my eyes. There before us was the diamond tomb, Brom's face strikingly visible through the clear gemstone surface. He looked to be only sleeping, as though his eyes would spring open at any moment and the breath return to his body. I looked a bit closer, and saw there was even a slight rosiness to his cheeks. He'd been buried so quickly after death, and the diamond tomb seemed to have stopped any decaying of his body.

Eragon and I stayed quiet for a long while, just standing by the tomb in silent reflection. Amera and Saphira sat slightly behind us with their heads bowed.

 _I wish I could have known him,_ Amera reflected sadly.  _From your memories, he seems a great man, and an exceptional Rider._

 _He was like a father to me,_ I replied.  _I miss him terribly, Amera._

 _Tabatha,_ Eragon suddenly broke in,  _I have something I wish to ask the Eldunarí, and I'd like to hear your opinion as well._ I sent him a feeling of agreement and then waited for whatever conversation would come next.  _Umaroth,_ Eragon began,  _with the name of the ancient language, would it be possible to bring him back? We buried him so quickly after he died, and the diamond will have stopped any decay. It would be like only a few minutes have gone by since his passing._

I could feel the hesitation radiating from the Eldunarí, and then Umaroth spoke.  _It would technically be possible,_ he said in that deep rumbling voice of his,  _but I fear these things are never simple. With our combined powers, we could revive his body and restore it to what it once was, but his mind and soul would be altered. He would no longer be the man you once knew._

At first, I'd been excited at the prospect, but after hearing what Umaroth had to say...  _Eragon,_ I said softly,  _he is right. It would not be your father. He would be a shell; a ghost of his former self. It is better to let him lie peacefully._

I knew Eragon was reluctant, but finally he relented. His sadness washed over me and Amera, and we both offered him feelings of comfort. Then, he began to murmur some words in the ancient language, and I saw the runes on the headstone begin to shift. The stone seemed to melt and flow and change, until new words were formed where the old ones had been. Now, the stone read:

_HERE LIES BROM_

_Who was_

_A Rider bonded to the dragon Saphira_

_Son of Holcomb and Nelda_

_Beloved of Selena_

_Father of Eragon Shadeslayer_

_Founder of the Varden_

_And Bane of the Forsworn_

_May his name live on in glory._

_Stydja unin mor'ranr._

His entire legacy was etched there in the stone, but oddly I did not feel as sad as I did before. Seeing it all there... Brom was an amazing man, and I had hardly known anything about him for most of my life. It hit me in that moment the weight that our secrets press upon us. Most of Brom's secrets had gone with him to the grave, and were only discovered later. I vowed I would not end up that way. From now on, I would be honest with my loved ones and friends. It was not worth it to live with so many things hidden.

We lingered a few moments longer, but eventually we had to leave. There was work to be done, and the Riders were not afforded much time to rest. I said what would likely be a final farewell to Brom, and then mounted Amera's saddle. We left the limestone hill behind, and hastened north to Urû'baen.

 

* * *

 

Upon our arrival in the city after being away for three weeks, I was glad to hear that Nasuada had renamed it Ilirea, to try and erase the darkness my father had forced upon it so long ago. She had finally managed to move into the citadel, though much of the additions my father had made were being torn down to reveal the elves' fortress that still lay underneath. It looked like quite the mish-mash of centuries and ages past, but I could see the new era that was about to dawn.

As soon as we got back, Eragon called after Arya, only to discover that she was gone. She had left a letter for him, and I left him in peace to read it. When he was done, I remained silent. Anything he wished to say, he would say in his own time.

After a few minutes, he whispered, "She has gone to aid in the elves' choosing of their new leader." He kept his head bowed, staring at the letter where he held it in his hands.

"I am sorry, Eragon," I replied, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Does she know when she will return?" He shook his head and finally folded the letter away into his tunic.

"These things take time. They want to be sure they are making the best choice for their people." I was not sure what else to say; I knew how he felt about her, and it seemed the two of us were in very similar situations now. Though his situation was slightly less bleak than mine. I wrapped him in a hug and assured him everything would be alright, the way he'd done for me so many times before.

 

* * *

 

The next three months crawled by at a snail's pace, as though the gods were laughing at mine and Amera's pain. We traveled to Gil'ead to release the people from their oaths. Thanks to Eragon, Saphira, Amera and me, Nasuada's reign was transitioning smoothly. After Gil'ead, Nasuada sent us to Ceunon as well. I was loath to leave my mother again, but she seemed to be doing much better.

Horst and Braeden had been keeping a near-constant watch on her, as well as monitoring her progress. Thëa gave me a quick report on how her healing was going, and I was glad to hear that some of her memories of her childhood were returning. The elf-woman was not sure the extent of the torture my father had put her under, nor why he'd kept her alive, but so far everything was going well. I had barely a day in the city before Nasuada sent us off again, and I spent all of it with my mother. She was saddened to see me leave so soon, but she understood.

Ceunon was a swift affair, as most of the other cities had been. That took us about three days, and then we turned back towards Ilirea. As we glided through the air, floating on a thermal, Eragon suddenly probed at my mind. Generally, we spent our flights in silence or in conversation with our own dragons, so his intrusion shocked me a bit.

 _What is it?_ I asked quickly.  _Is everything alright?_

 _I wondered if you'd like to take a detour,_ he said, and I could detect a note of sadness in his voice.

 _And where might this detour take us?_ I questioned warily.

_If you follow me, I will show you._

_What do you think, Amera?_ I asked her. She sent me a feeling of amusement.

 _I think we should go along with his game,_ she said playfully.

 _Very well then,_ I conceded. She angled her wings to follow behind Saphira as we headed westward into the dying sun.

We flew over the vast forests beneath us, and then over a large body of water. Once the lake lay behind us, I could make out the hazy outline of mountains directly ahead of us. At the sight of those mountains, my heartbeat quickened in my chest, and I suddenly realized where Eragon was taking us. But why? There is nothing left of it but ruins and ash. Why would he want to see our home in such a state?

A few hours later, we were deep in the Spine, gliding over valleys and hills and forests. It didn't take much longer before the landscape began to look very familiar. And at last, I glimpsed the outlines of where foundations had once been, supporting the buildings that had made up my home. The sight of it so empty put a hollow sadness in my heart, but I could still recognize it as Carvahall, our childhood home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty everyone, that's it for now. This chapter got a bit longer than I had hoped. We're getting into the falling action stage of the story, so I apologize if it's a bit boring, but we're wrapping it up here! Anyways, hope you enjoyed. Don't forget to review!


	64. Only Tears Left In His Wake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next installment for you all. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy!

A fine dusting of snow coated everything around us, dampening any sound and creating a ghostly atmosphere. We walked along the abandoned streets in silence for a while, taking in what remained of our home. In the south, the cold grip of Winter had not quite reached the city gates, but here, it was firmly rooted and had taken hold of everything. The grass was brown, where it could be seen, and the trees were bare, but, strangely enough, it did not seem somber. In fact, it was the most peaceful I'd ever seen the place. It was like a forest after a fire has devoured all its life; razed to the ground, but with the promise of new life to come swiftly behind. I hoped and prayed that the villagers would return here to rebuild.

We stopped by the ashes of Morn's tavern, and I recalled so many happy memories of meeting Brom there, sneaking out when I thought my aunt didn't know exactly what I was doing. He'd told so many stories here around the hearth, bringing the community together; he really had been a staple of our village. And now he was gone. I wondered who would take up after him, if anyone, but the thought only brought sadness to my heart.

I looked across the common pasture at the center of town to where my aunt and uncle's house used to be. Pieces of the framework still stood, remarkably, but the beams were blackened from fire and crumbling apart. The second floor where my room had been was completely gone, but I could just make out the shape of the kitchen and a portion of the chimney was still erect, though it was slightly leaning. My uncle and cousins had put such care and craftsmanship into the house that I wasn't at all surprised to see some of it had survived. None of the other buildings in town had been so lucky.

"It's so quiet," Eragon said from beside me. He too was gazing out over the ruins of the town, and I saw the anger and sadness locked in his dark eyes. "It doesn't seem natural, for a place that was once so full of life."

"It will be again," I assured him. "The villagers will return and rebuild, better than before. They'll build actual defenses, and it will flourish once more. I know it." A sense of hope was stirring in my chest, but I could not explain it. There was just a feeling that I had about the place.

"It will be a new Carvahall," Eragon continued quietly, casting his eyes at the ground, "but we will not be apart of it." I could hear the immense sadness in his voice, and I looked over at him.

"Who says we will not come to visit some day?" I asked him, walking over and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Both of our families will be here, Eragon. I'm sure we will spend some time with them, whenever we can. We will be busy, that much is certain, but we'll have to allow ourselves some personal time. Else the two of us will go mad." I laughed slightly, to try and lighten his mood, but it did not seem to work.

"We can come back as much as we like, Tabby," he said darkly, "but we'll no longer be a part of the community. We grew up here, started our lives here, but we can never come back. Not truly, anyways."

"You certainly are somber today," I remarked dryly. "What's on your mind?" He fell silent, and I saw Saphira shift slightly behind him. Suddenly, I felt a weight hanging between us, of things that have gone unsaid. It was clear that something was on his mind, but whatever it was, he did not wish to share it with me.

"I have been preoccupied, Tabby," he finally replied, "and I am sorry if I've been distant. With everything that's going on with your mother, I didn't want to involve you. But now I feel I must."

My heart was hammering in my chest with nervousness. _What do you think is going on?_ I asked Amera.

She snorted behind me. _I do not know,_ she replied. _But I have noticed Saphira becoming more distant as well. Something is not right._

"I think you'd better tell both of us," I said to Eragon and Saphira, looking between the two of them in turn. I noticed Saphira's eyes held a note of apology, and my nervousness only grew worse.

_There is much to discuss,_ Saphira said, sitting on her haunches and clearing away a layer of snow with her tail. Eragon and I began to set up a makeshift camp in the place Saphira had cleared, starting a fire and preparing a meager meal of venison and broth. Amera sat behind me, and I leaned up against her warm body, clutching my cloak tighter around me in an effort to banish the cold. Eragon poked at the fire a bit, and then clasped his hands in front of him, a slight scowl on his face.

_Where to begin?_ he said, not really to anyone in particular. In the streams of our thoughts, and the connections of our minds, I could feel the Eldunarí surrounding it all. They kept their distance, but I could still feel them.

_Perhaps at the beginning?_ I offered tentatively. What could be so bad that he was hesitating to tell us?

_Saphira and I feel an enormous amount of responsibility is weighing down on us,_ he finally said, and I could feel Saphira's agreement. _With the knowledge that we will be able to rebuild the Riders, there are things that we must make decisions about. I know that you and Amera are different than any Rider or dragon who has ever come before, but you are still one of us._ I rubbed at Amera's snout absentmindedly as I listened, and I felt her uncertainty pressing against me.

_And you know we will help you in whatever way we can,_ I cut in. _We may not be much use in training any new Riders the ways of the ancient language, but there are other things we can help with. Battle techniques, saddle-making..._

_I know you can,_ Eragon said, not unkindly. _That is not the issue here._

_Then what is?_

He looked at Saphira hesitantly, and I saw her give a slight nod. _The problem lies in_ where _to train the new Riders and raise the dragons. We have given the matter much thought, and we've discussed it at length with Umaroth. But every place we can think of seems to have some problem or another that would make it unsuitable. The Riders of old had their place on Vroengard, but it is still uninhabitable. As far as Saphira and I, or the Eldunarí, can tell..._ He paused here and gave me a long hard look, one that I knew well. He did not need to say anything further.

_You wish to leave Alaga_ _ë_ _sia altogether,_ I finished for him, feeling my dread peak in my chest and drop to my stomach.

_We do not see another way, Tabby,_ he said apologetically. I thought on this for a long time, relying on the rhythm of my heart to keep me grounded.

_This could not have been easy for them to decide, Tabatha,_ Amera said, nudging my shoulder softly. _Are you angry?_

_No,_ I replied, and it was the truth. _I am torn._

_You do not need to make a decision now,_ Eragon cut in quickly. _I know this is not a decision to be hastily made. You and Amera must take your time, and make the choice that is best for you. It is asking a lot, but I would be lying if I said I didn't want you and Amera to come with us. I am not sure yet where we will go; maybe east, I think. And we do not wish to leave until Nasuada has established her reign and the elves have chosen a new leader. We have time._

_Are you sure_ you _aren't being hasty about this, Eragon?_ I asked, which seemed to catch him off-guard.

_We have thought long and hard on this, Tabby. And all of us are in agreement. It's for the best._ His words sunk in and settled in my chest, feeling like a weight had been placed there.

It was an enormous thing he was asking, and I wasn't sure if I could fully comprehend it just yet. He wanted me to leave everything I'd ever known behind, and he was willing to do the same. My family, my friends... my home. A rush of emotion passed over me, and tears sprang forth to my eyes. I knew Eragon didn't mean to upset me with this, but it had all suddenly become too much for me. Amera leaned into my shoulder heavily, and let out a groan.

"I did not mean to upset you," Eragon said aloud. "This wasn't easy for us either."

"I know, Eragon. I know..." I whispered, wiping away the tears from my face. "Let us think on what you have said. We will tell you when we have come to a decision."

"Of course," he replied. "I would not expect anything less."

We sat by the fire for an hour more, until the sun began to sink behind the mountains. And we both decided we didn't want to see the ruins of Garrow's farm. The memories there were too painful. With great sorrow in my heart, we ascended into the sky and left Carvahall behind, for what might be the last time.

 

* * *

 

On the journey back to Ilirea, we were intercepted by the sight of a few garrisons of soldiers. Trianna, the sorceress from Du Vrangr Gata, was with them, and she sent a message up to Eragon that we were needed. The four of us landed ahead of the column, and then Eragon and I joined the soldiers. Roran was amongst the leaders.

"How is Katrina? Enormously pregnant, I assume?" I asked him after he and Eragon had exchanged a brotherly embrace.

"Her sicknesses have passed, blessedly," he replied. He sounded tired, and looked even more so. It couldn't have been easy for him, leaving behind his pregnant wife. "She is feeling very tired, and a bit cranky at times."

"To be expected," I said, laughing a bit. He smiled at me, and I was glad to see it. After the conversation Eragon and I had earlier, I was glad to have some happiness. We spoke with him and the other company commanders briefly about the issue arising in Teirm.

Apparently, as most of us had expected, they were not too keen on Nasuada's reign, and were starting a rebellion. The details were vague, but I knew enough to understand that this could be potentially disastrous for our new Empire. Teirm was the largest port city in Alagaësia; without it, I couldn't begin to imagine what would happen to the shipping economy. And so, with renewed purpose, we turned back the way we'd come and headed towards the Spine.

With the men on the ground, it took us nearly two days to reach the port city, and when we came up over the ridge to stare down on its gleaming towers, a veritable army was waiting for us. They were a ragtag bunch of men, and a few women, and most of them looked like they'd never swung a sword in their life. But there was something in them that I recognized. I could see the hunger and the fire in their eyes. It was one I had seen in the faces of many members of the Varden: the unwavering desire and absolute need for freedom.

Their leaders met us upon a neutral field, each of our parties bearing the white flag of truce. I could see their horses growing nervous in the shadows of the two dragons, but their rider's never faltered. They eyed Eragon and I with indifference, which was surprising to me. It seems war has a drastic effect on people.

Jörmundur was leading up the column, and had a sealed and signed document from Nasuada that authorized him to speak on her behalf. He and Lord Risthart spoke in hushed tones for several minutes, and I could see each man tense in the presence of the other.

_What do you think they are saying?_ Amera asked, keeping a watchful eye on the proceedings.

_I have no idea,_ I replied quietly. _They both seem tense though, don't they? I hope it will not come to a battle. Nasuada cannot afford that right now._

_Look, they're breaking apart._ I followed her gaze and saw Jörmundur turning his steed around, and Risthart and his men following close behind. One of Risthart's generals turned back towards the city, but he did not return to join the others. Jörmundur spoke with Eragon shortly, who then conveyed the message to me and Amera.

_Lord Risthart will be returning with us to Ilirea,_ he explained. _He wishes to negotiate terms with Nasuada._

_Is that such a good idea?_ I asked as Amera turned to follow behind our group. Saphira lumbered slowly in front of us.

_He won't try anything under the gaze of two dragons,_ Eragon quipped back, and I could hear him chuckling aloud. _They are demanding to be allowed to keep their independence. We'll see what Nasuada has to say about that._

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Nasuada had very little to say about it. When we returned to Ilirea, she didn't seem terribly surprised to see Lord Risthart and his generals. She received them in the throne room, where she sat upon a newly erected seat of carved mahogany with gold inlay. Upon her brow was a simple circlet of hammered bronze and gold, which complimented her skin. The crown of the Broddring kings had been upon my father's head when he killed himself, and had been destroyed. The dwarves were hard at work crafting her a new one, but this would suffice in the meantime.

The negotiations lasted a little over half an hour, and it interested me greatly to watch Nasuada carry herself with such poise and confidence. She agreed to let Teirm become an independent city-state, but they had to swear fealty to her and allow the new Empire's ships to dock there and trade with them. Risthart agreed, and everyone was given a goblet of wine to signify the treaty. Risthart and each of his generals signed the official document, Nasuada signed it after them, and then Eragon and I signed it as the two witnesses. All in all, a very peaceful affair. I could only hope that any other uprisings could be handled with such diplomacy.

After the proceedings were over, I headed to the row house where my mother was, while Amera and Saphira went out hunting. She was sleeping when I arrived, but my uncle was still there.

"How has she been?" I asked quietly as I took a seat across from him. We sat in front of the fire; winter was making its way here, and the days were turning chilly. We were in the sitting room, and my mother's quarters were directly off these rooms, so he kept his voice down as well.

"Better than I would have expected," he said, giving me a small smile. "Every day brings a new memory, and she's regaining her physical strength. She's put on a little weight, and looks healthier than before you left, though she is still thin."

"That's good to hear," I remarked.

"Most of the memories stem from our childhood in Carvahall, and some into her adulthood. She remembers the king, she remembers meeting him, and she remembers you and your brother as children. But the time she was held in captivity... She seems to have locked that away."

"Perhaps that is for the best," I offered. "If I know anything about my father, he will have done unspeakable things to her. Maybe it's best if she _doesn't_ remember."

He replied with a wordless grunt, staring into the flames that crackled in the hearth. I could tell something was on his mind, but didn't press him. Finally, he said, "She is still very detached from the world, Tabatha. She knows enough to understand that this is not one of Galbatorix's tricks. But there are enough pieces missing that I'm not sure she's entirely convinced that what she's seeing is reality."

"What can we do?" I asked, leaning forward in the chair slightly.

"I think it would help if you sat and talked with her for a while; tell her about your life and how we raised you in Carvahall, as she wished. It will help her fill in some of the blanks. To be locked away for over seventeen years... She's been freed from her cell, but thrust into a world she knows nothing about. You'll not know this, as you were too young to remember, but when she was locked away the world was a far different place than it is now. I'm afraid if we try to integrate her back into society too quickly, it may do more harm than good."

I thought on what my uncle said for a long while, going over all the pieces in my mind. He certainly was wise, and perceptive at that. My mother had suffered terrible trauma, which would affect her view of the world as it was now. "I think you are right," I finally said. "She needs to slowly come to understand what has happened since she's been gone. When should we begin?"

"Not today," my uncle replied. "Wait until you have time to devote to this task. I know the queen is keeping you and Eragon busy at the moment. Visit with her periodically when you can, but don't take up this task until the realm is secure."

"Agreed," I mumbled, following his gaze to the fire. The wood hissed and popped as the fire consumed it, and the flames danced wildly in the hearth. "I will speak with Nasuada," I continued, "about moving her to the citadel. Not many people know of her existence, and I would like to keep it that way. This place is too undefended."

Uncle Horst nodded his head in agreement, and I left him soon after. As I walked away from the house and towards the citadel, I could almost feel my heart breaking in my chest. I had so many responsibilities to undertake, and their magnitude was slowly becoming clear to me. There were my duties as a Rider, and then there were my duties as a daughter. I know the great task that lies before me in aiding Eragon, but can I really abandon my mother when she needs me most?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That will be all for now! What will Tabby decide? Any thoughts or predictions! Let me know in a review! Also, next chapter will be out on Sunday!


	65. Pieces on the Board

Over the next month, Eragon and I were dispatched to every corner of Alagaësia. Nasuada was determined to rid the realm of every trace of Galbatorix, and it was up to Eragon and I to do it. And in that month, Eragon had been teaching me the ways of the ancient language. It was incredibly foreign to me, as my magic was internally based, whereas the magic of the ancient language drew energy from some other source most of the time. And the idea that I had to use words to invoke the magic was strange as well. But I was learning, even if it was a little slowly. He said that these skills would be useful in training the new order of Riders, and I couldn't argue with him on that point.

At the mention of training the new Riders, my heartbeat quickened in my chest. Amera and I had discussed it at length whenever we got the chance, but we had yet to reach a decision. Part of me was hesitating to decide, and I knew the reason why. It was due in part to the situation around my mother and her recovery. The thought of leaving her was ripping me apart from the inside. I felt like I would be betraying her. And the other part... well, the end of the six month arrangement was approaching. Until I knew for sure what Murtagh and Thorn had decided, Amera and I could not make our own decision. There were too many factors in play, and the thought of them all made my head pound. So, it was more often than not that we didn't think about them at all. I knew we were only putting off the inevitable, but it seemed the only way.

We were back in Ilirea, after lifting the spells from Kuasta, Narda, and various other cities in the realm. Eragon was becoming more and more distant in the wake of his decision to leave here, though I was the only one he'd informed as of yet. And the fact that Arya had yet to return weighed heavily on him. There hadn't even been any word from the elves about their search for a new leader. As far as I understood, it was a slow process. But three months seemed far too long, in my opinion.

_When you can live for centuries upon centuries,_ Amera cut into my thoughts from the dragon hold while I was in my room, _you find that decisions are not to be made hastily. If you knew your next king or queen would live and reign for thousands of years, would you not also take great care in making the best choice?_

_Yes, yes you smart thing. I see your point. They all seem so stuffy to me, though. I cannot help it._ I could tell Amera was amused, but she did not seek to reprimand me any further. She certainly was a cheeky little thing, but I loved her dearly.

_Saphira and I are going to do some training tonight, while you all are at dinner,_ she said, shifting the subject. Nasuada had requested Eragon and I to dine with her this evening, leaving the dragons to do as they wished. _She wants to teach me some more battle techniques that Glaedr showed her while he was alive._

_Really? That's good to hear. Though I was under the impression that you'd learned enough_ techniques _from Thorn._ I could not help teasing her, and her embarrassment pervaded my mind. _Does Saphira know about you two?_ I asked. She grew timid, and I could feel her hesitation. We had not spoken of them much, as the memories were still too painful to bring to the surface.

_It's doubtful,_ she finally responded. _I have not said as much, but she knows I am saddened. I've put it off on the decision we have yet to make, of whether to accompany them or not. But she is perceptive, and will figure it out eventually. I worry what she will think._

_Only tell her if you want to,_ I said reassuringly. _I will not pressure you either way._

_I know you won't, little one,_ she said lovingly. I sent her feelings of warmth and comfort before withdrawing.

Last week, when we'd returned to Ilirea, I had moved all my things into the citadel, far from the room I had occupied when I lived here during my captivity. Nasuada had agreed it would be safer for my mother to live here in the citadel, as long as it didn't trigger an episode. She had reacted well so far, and I thought that the danger might have passed. Her rooms were adjacent to mine, so I could be close by if anything happened. So far, thank the gods, nothing had.

Quickly, I crossed the hallway and knocked on her door. There came no reply, so I pushed down the latch and swung the door inward, trying to be quiet in case I disturbed her. When I came into the sitting room, what I saw caused my heart to stop beating for a split second.

He stood staring at a built-in shelf of books next to the window, which looked out over the castle gardens. His back was turned to me, and he didn't seem to notice I'd come in the room. But I'd come to check on my mother. I couldn't leave now.

"Miles," I said hesitantly. I saw him jump at the unexpected sound of my voice, and he turned rapidly to face me, a look of surprise on his face.

"Tabatha," he breathed in a rough voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't... I wasn't..." He fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, not unkindly. I was genuinely curious.

"My father is visiting with your mother, in the drawing room," he stammered, motioning to a door at my left which I knew led into her private parlor. "He asked that I come along... So I could meet her." I got the feeling he wasn't too thrilled about this.

"Oh," I said quietly, looking at the floor uncertainly.

"Tabatha—"

"Miles—" We both spoke at the same time, and then I saw him laugh slightly to himself and cast his grey eyes to the floor.

"You go first, I'm sorry," he said.

"No, I am the one who is sorry." By the look on his face, I could tell that he knew I didn't mean about cutting him off. Slowly, I closed the door behind me and came further into the sitting room. "Can we sit and talk for a moment?" I asked, gesturing to the small tea table that was set up next to a window. He nodded and then we took our seats across from one another. I kept my eyes on the tabletop, too embarrassed to look him in the eye still.

"What is it you wanted to talk about?" he asked uncertainly.

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts and form them into words, but when I did, they came pouring out of me like a flood. "These last two years have been a whirlwind for me. My entire life turned upside down and it's taken me this long to realize that I never really had a moment to handle it; to comprehend my situation and what was happening to me. Right in the middle of it all, I acted based off of gut instincts, and on emotion instead of rational thought. Looking back on everything now, though, I realize just how much harm I caused to the people I cared about, you and Isabelle especially."

"Tabatha—"

"No," I cut him off, perhaps a little harsher than I'd intended. "Let me finish, please. If I don't say this now, I don't know when I'll get the chance to again." Slowly, he nodded, indicating I could continue. "The way I treated you... I can never atone for what I did. It was awful of me, and I wanted you to know that I am truly sorry. I hope, someday, you can come to forgive me, but I understand if you cannot. If I have guessed correctly, you and Isabelle will return to Surda and I'll probably never see either of you again. There are so many things I wish to say and do, but I know I can never make up for—"

"Will you shut up for a moment?" he suddenly said. And when I looked up in surprise, I saw there was a wry smirk on his face. It was in this moment, as I inspected his face, that I realized the full depth of my childishness in the way I'd acted towards him. I'd based my dislike, and eventual hatred, of him off the belief that he reminded me too much of Murtagh, in a time when I needed desperately to forget him. But now that the ordeal was over, now that we had won, I could see the subtle differences between them. And when all of those differences added up, I could see—truly _see_ —Miles for the first time as the person he was; his own person. "What's done is done," he continued. "The past is in the past, and I am ready to forget it."

"What?" I asked, completely dumbfounded. My face must have betrayed my confusion, for he began to laugh at me.

"It took me long enough to come to terms with it," he said, "but I understand why you did what you did; why you felt like you had to. I cannot, in good conscience, say that I didn't have some hand in your dislike of me. I treated you unfairly as well, because of the expectations my father placed on me. I've come to believe that we were victims of our circumstances; things that were out of our control. And I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, if you are."

I was in complete and utter shock, and I could feel my mouth falling agape in my surprise. "You mean it?" I finally asked. He nodded and extended a hand across the table. I took it gladly, and shook as firmly as I could muster. At that moment, the door behind me to the private parlor opened, and I heard Braeden speaking in a low tone.

"Tabatha!" he said upon seeing me. I turned and beamed at him widely.

"Hello, Braeden," I said, getting up out of the chair and wrapping him in a hug. "It is good to see you. How is your leg?"

He pulled away and looked down at it. "The blasted thing pains me every day, but I'm managing. How have you been? I hear Nasuada is running you and Eragon ragged."

"Nothing I didn't expect," I laughed, and I glanced over his shoulder to see my mother watching us, a small smile on her face. "Mother, how are you feeling?" I pulled away from Braeden and walked around him to stand before her. She held out her hands, and I gladly took them.

"I am doing well today," she replied. I inspected her face, and saw that the cuts were completely healed, but had left some scars, as I'd expected. "Braeden has been keeping me company. How was your journey?"

"Uneventful," I replied. "No one wanting to rebel this month, it looks like." She smiled at me again.

"Will you be leaving soon?"

"I hope not. It looks like pretty much everywhere Galbatorix had a hold is freed. Now we will wait to see who reveals their true colors, and where their loyalties lie." She walked beside me into the sitting room, where Braeden and Miles were speaking jovially. The four of us sat and enjoyed one another's company for a long while, until the slanted light of dusk poured into the room and I had to leave to prepare for dinner. I assured my mother I would come back tomorrow, and then returned to my own rooms, feeling better than I had in months.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was not served in the grand dining room of the castle, but rather in Nasuada's private chambers. Apparently, whatever she wished to say to us needed to be done in as much privacy as possible. Eragon arrived in her study shortly after I did, but he did not offer me so much as a smile. I was beginning to worry about him.

"Thank you for joining me," Nasuada said, taking a seat and then indicating we should do the same. Elva sat on a divan across the room, reading a small book and periodically looking up at us. "There is much we have to discuss." At her tone of voice, I was beginning to worry.

"How may we be of service?" Eragon asked, his voice strangely vacant.

"I have run into a problem. It's no secret that I am doing everything within my power to avoid repeating the last hundred years," she began slowly, fiddling with the stem of her goblet. "There is much to be done, but we are coming along. The only thing that I can see which will stand in our way is the problem of the magicians in Alagaësia." I noticed Eragon bristling beside me. My mind flashed back to the words Galbatorix had expertly crafted in the throne room, right before he had died. He wanted to use the Name to bind all the magicians in Alagaësia. Nasuada couldn't seriously be considering the same, could she?

"What problem would that be?" I questioned after Eragon remained stoically silent.

Nasuada's dark eyes flicked over to me, and I noticed they looked harder than the last time I'd seen her. "They are unpredictable," she explained. "In the wake of Galbatorix's defeat, we cannot be sure who is loyal to him, and who is not. Those magicians that remain loyal to him are extremely dangerous, as are those whose loyalties are uncertain. There are some who are loyal only to themselves, and those are the most dangerous of all.

"I wish to create a task force, to monitor the magic users in the realm. Those who use it for good will be allowed to continue, those who do not will be dealt with accordingly." I felt a chill in my bones; her words echoed my father's almost exactly. "Tabatha," she continued, her voice snapping me out of my thoughts. "I want to ask you to head up this task force."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "My lady, I appreciate the consideration, but I do not think that is a wise decision at all." I looked to Eragon, and he shifted his gaze to me. _What can she be thinking?_ I asked him.

_I have to tell her of the decision Saphira and I have made,_ he suddenly said. _I have to tell her you are needed elsewhere, otherwise she'll try to wear you down until you agree._

"I know it comes as a surprise," Nasuada continued, completely oblivious to the conversation that had just passed between us, "but I trust you, Tabatha. I need someone of sound mind and solid judgment, who is not afraid to make a tough call. Eragon will be tied up in reestablishing the Riders, and he won't need you until we have new ones. And I know that Eragon has been teaching you the ways of the ancient language. You are still learning, I understand, but I have faith that you will master it quickly."

"It is not the matter of my abilities that I call into question," I said hotly, probably more forceful than was necessary. "It is the fact that there are still those in the realm who do not trust me because of my parentage. The fact that I am a Rider does nothing to assuage those fears. If anything, I believe that it heightens them."

She fell quiet for a moment, but she did not avert her gaze. "Is that your only fear?" she asked. "Because if that is all, I will ensure that it is made known you are in the service of the New Empire, and hold no allegiance to any former regime."

"That is not all, my lady." This time, it was Eragon that spoke. She looked at him, her face holding a look of surprise.

"You have some objection to this arrangement as well?" she asked, somewhat caught off-guard.

"I do." His voice was firm, and I was surprised at him. "I would have needed to tell you sooner or later, but it seems I cannot conceal this any longer."

"Speak plainly, Eragon."

"I have need of Tabatha," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Saphira and I have wrestled with this decision for months now, but I believe it is final. We have searched and thought of where to raise the dragons in an environment that is safe for them, as well as the citizens of the realm. We have come to the conclusion that such a place does not exist." The shock was evident on her face.

"What are you saying, Eragon?" Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, but I could tell she already knew the answer.

"We have decided to leave Alagaësia." Silence pervaded the room for what seemed like an eternity. Nasuada was shocked at his admission, that much was clear by the look on her face. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

"You cannot be serious," she said, her voice holding a note of panic. "I need you here, Eragon. There are many things which require my attention but I cannot do it all. The job of the Riders is to keep the peace in Alagaësia, and that is what I need for you to do. How can you perform your duties if you are not here?"

"It is a changed world, my lady," he explained calmly. "The Riders cannot continue on as we once did until we are reestablished. For that to happen, we need a safe environment to raise the dragons and to train the new Riders that will come. Do not mistake that this was an easy decision to make. But it has been made."

"You are the most powerful magician in Alagaësia, Eragon. I need you now more than ever."

"But that is exactly the problem," he said with a note of sadness. "I have become _too_ powerful. You said yourself you did not wish to repeat the last hundred years. This is the only way." She fell silent, dissecting his words in her mind. Nasuada looked down at the table, a scowl upon her face. Finally, I saw the acceptance settle in her eyes.

She turned her gaze back to Eragon. "There is nothing I can say to convince you?" she asked. He shook his head slowly. "Then will you consent to tell the Name to whomever I choose to lead this task force?"

"I will not," he said after a moment's hesitation. "Let the Name stay buried, until it is needed as an absolute last resort. If I am one of the only four that possess it, and can use it effectively, it is even more important that I leave. Alagaësia cannot live through another tyrant, and I would not see myself become that."

"So you will answer to no one but yourself?" she asked, a bite to her voice. This was not going to plan at all.

"I will answer to Saphira and my conscience, as I always have," he replied with a bit of a smirk. Nasuada hung her head and sighed heavily.

"A man of conscience—the most dangerous kind in the world." When she looked at us again, there were tears in her eyes but a smile upon her face. "I understand, Eragon," she said. And then her gaze turned to me. "But what of you, Tabatha? I cannot believe you would be so willing to abandon your mother so quickly after getting her back. Or will she go with you two?"

I bit down on my lower lip nervously, looking between her and Eragon. His eyes were questioning as well, and I knew he wanted to get an answer from me. "I cannot say yet," I finally muttered. "There are things yet left to consider. And I cannot make a decision on this until I have answers to other questions." I looked into Eragon's dark eyes, and hoped that I had conveyed my meaning. It seemed I had, because he nodded slowly and gave me a small smile.

"I am baffled at you two; utterly baffled," Nasuada sighed in exasperation. "Very well. I understand why you feel you must do this. And although it pains me, I give you my blessing. You will tell me, when you've reached a decision?" This last question was directed at me.

"I will, my lady. But it will not alter my feelings on your offer to lead the magicians, if I do decide to stay." She nodded in understanding. Surprisingly, the rest of the evening was not awkward. The three of us sat in pleasant conversation by her fire and drank wine well into the early hours of the morning. Though I could not shake the staunch feeling that I was being placed upon a game board; one of the pieces for the players to move about and wield for their own purposes. Eragon and Nasuada were those two players, but it was time for me to make my own decisions as to my next moves. I would become my own player, whether it be to my detriment or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That is all for now! Hope you all enjoyed! Next part will be out on Thursday. :-)


	66. The Gift of Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's wishing you all a Happy New Year! Enjoy!

It was a month later, in the deepest part of winter that an attempt was made on Nasuada's life, as Murtagh warned there might be. In all actuality, it was three attempts, but only one of them came close to succeeding. She was purveying the progress of the city's rebuilding, when a net full of stones suspended over the street was dropped on top of her. Elva was with her and warned her of the danger, and Eragon had placed protective wards around her. But she still broke a few bones in her arm. Jörmundur and her Nighthawks spent two weeks pursuing the culprits of the assassination attempt, and they were able to kill two of them immediately after the attack, but the rest escaped. It was disconcerting, to say the least. We had believed things were beginning to settle down finally, and now this. Nasuada, for her part, was not fazed. She remained as steadfast and resolute as ever.

As for Eragon, I could tell he was growing antsy, as was Saphira. There was still no word from the elves on their decision of a ruler. And, more than that, Arya had not responded to any of his letters. I felt sympathy for him, empathy even; but I knew when I would see Murtagh again, and Eragon had no idea how long it would be before he saw Arya. We were two peas in a pod, the pair of us.

It was not long after the final attempt on Nasuada's life that Katrina gave birth to a healthy baby girl. She was a large baby, with a shock of red hair atop her head, just like her mother. The child cried louder than any I'd ever heard, and she had a strong grip, like her father. They named her Ismira, after Katrina's mother. I promised to help Katrina if she ever needed anything, though I knew little about the care of babies. She thanked me all the same.

And the day after Ismira was born, Nasuada summoned Roran to the throne room. She had decided to bestow him an earldom, which granted him rule over Carvahall and all of Palancar Valley. I was overwhelmed with joy for the two of them, as I knew this meant his family would be provided for, long after they both were gone. It was the dawning of a new age for Carvahall, one of prosperity and wealth that they very much deserved.

Not a week after that, word reached us of two rebellions that had sprouted up in Gil'ead and Aroughs, seemingly overnight. Nasuada called upon Eragon and I to quell them and mete out her punishment. In the effort of expedience, it was decided that Eragon and Saphira would go to Aroughs, and Amera and I would handle Gil'ead.

Amera and I left the next day at dawn, after bidding farewell to my mother and uncle. It was not a long flight to Gil'ead, and we were there within the span of a few hours. Nasuada had sent several garrisons ahead of us, and the fighting had already ensued. We joined in the battle, Amera dousing them in violet flames, and I dispatching them with discs of energy. Within an hour, the rebels had surrendered, and I extracted oaths from their leader, a man by the name of Hamlin, that he would never again take up arms against the queen's men. He said them in the ancient language, and understood that if he broke this promise, it would be under pain of death. We departed soon after that, after healing several of the officers that were badly hurt.

_That was not so difficult,_ Amera remarked casually, as though we were taking a brisk run and hadn't just defeated a rebellion.

_I wonder how Eragon is faring,_ I said. As we returned to Ilirea, I enlisted the help of one of the sorcerers from Du Vrangr Gata. He contacted his affiliate that had gone with Eragon to Aroughs, and informed them that Amera and I would be joining them in two day's time. The other sorcerer ensured he would relay the message, and then we were off again. It seemed our work as dragon and Rider was never done.

 

* * *

 

Aroughs took much more time than Gil'ead had. After the third week of constant fighting, I was getting quite tired of it. I don't know how they did it, but no matter how many men we killed or injured of theirs, the rebels always seemed to have enough in reserve to replenish their forces. I knew Eragon and Saphira were growing aggravated as well. We'd thought to have been done with this debacle two weeks ago, yet here we were in a run down camp outside the city, battling against the man known as Tharos the Quick. And quick he was indeed.

It was in the middle of the fourth week that we finally broke them. After three days of nonstop assault from the queen's men and from our two dragons, their forces were finally depleted enough that we could overtake them. When the battle was over, Eragon made swift work of extracting oaths from this Lord Tharos, making sure to add in ample amounts of threats if he ever tried anything like this again. The man complied, though I could tell he was not happy about it. Two days later, we departed for Ilirea.

A month had passed since we'd left, and I had made sure to send my mother word every so often, so she wouldn't worry too much. She was happy to see me back, though I could tell my letters had not quite gotten rid of all her fear. It pained me to see her worry about me like this, but that was something I would have to get used to. As a Rider, I would constantly be called to dangerous situations; that was part of the jeopardy in rebuilding a nation.

After I'd seen my mother, I decided to go seek out Eragon, to see how he was faring. He was on the opposite side of the castle, near to the Great Hall. Many of the villagers from Carvahall who'd fought in the battle had been given rooms there, until they decided what they would do about their town. I found him visiting with Roran and Katrina, and little baby Ismira.

"Tabatha!" Katrina called as I entered the room. Roran and Eragon stood by the window, talking between themselves. They looked up at my arrival, but quickly went back to their conversation. "What a surprise to see you here."

"I wanted to make sure you two were doing well," I said, smiling and sitting beside her in a chair before the fireplace. She held Ismira against her chest, wrapped in a heavy blanket. The girl was sleeping peacefully, the only time she was ever quiet. "How are you faring?"

"I am well, thank you," Katrina replied with a warm smile. "Just happy to have this little one join us in the world. She was growing quite heavy in there." She looked down at the little bundle in her arms, and joy lit up her face. I watched the two of them for a moment, glad to be able to share in some part of this.

"You look so happy, Katrina," I finally said, "and I am happy for you." Although we'd grown up in the same town, and were not far apart in age, Katrina and I were never close. We were cordial, but because of her father's protectiveness, we'd never really gotten the chance to become friends. Now, I feared we never would.

"Thank you, Tabby," she whispered. "I wish the same happiness for you someday."

I laughed slightly at that. "I doubt very much I shall have children," I said dryly. "Besides, I don't think I'd be a very good mother."

"What makes you say that?" Katrina's voice had gone quiet and serious. I met her questioning gaze, and suddenly felt heat flooding my cheeks.

"I... I don't know, I just have never really thought about having children, that's all." I looked down at the floor, suddenly uncomfortable under her gaze.

"From what I know of you, Tabatha Adelaidesdaughter, you are kind and caring. You show compassion, and you are just. If you ever decide to have children, you will be a wonderful mother. Children are a gift from the gods, and yours would be lucky to have you." She placed a hand on my shoulder, and I looked up to see her smiling at me warmly.

"That is kind of you to say," I replied, feeling myself lighten up a bit.

"Would you like to hold her?" Katrina asked, moving the baby in her arms closer to me. I hesitated for a moment, but then I nodded, taking care in folding her into my arms. The babe did not even stir in the slightest at the disturbance. She remained sleeping peacefully, her full pink lips slightly parted as she breathed evenly. She was a beautiful baby girl, and I could see that Katrina loved her very much, as did Roran.

Suddenly, Eragon was standing over my shoulder, peering down at me where I held the sleeping baby. "This is the quietest I've ever heard her," he remarked wryly, drawing a chuckle from Katrina. "May I?" He reached down and took the baby girl out of my arms, holding her against his chest. He smiled down at her, but then I heard a squawking noise and realized she'd woken up. She began to wail and cry terribly. I had to laugh at Eragon as a look of panic spread over his face, and he looked to Katrina for help.

"I believe it's time for her dinner," she said confidently, taking Ismira from him in one fluid motion.

"Ah," Eragon said in embarrassment, "well then, we shall leave you to it then." I laughed merrily as he scurried out of the room, and followed behind him, throwing one last goodbye over my shoulder before leaving the little family in peace.

 

* * *

 

That night, when the city had fallen quiet and the world seemed to still upon the midnight hour, I sat up in the dragon hold with Amera, gazing out over the city. The streets were quiet, though I could periodically hear laughter and music arising from a nearby tavern. Candles dotted the windows of a few homes, and some of the windows within the castle, but most of Ilirea's inhabitants were fast asleep in their beds.

_I miss them, Tabby,_ Amera suddenly said, breaking our comfortable silence.

_As do I, Amera... as do I. It is not so long now. Only three more weeks, by my calculations. At the time, it seemed like six months would never pass, but now... Now it seems as though it happened in the blink of an eye._ She exhaled heavily beside me and shifted her weight around to get more comfortable. My legs dangled perilously over the edge of the landing into open space, but I was not afraid. I had Amera by my side; what did I have to fear with a dragon for my company?

_It is because Nasuada kept us busy, and our minds were occupied with other troubles._

_Have you thought any more on Eragon's offer?_ I questioned, picking up a small pebble from the landing and sending it sailing out into the void of night.

_I have._ She remained staring out over the city. I waited a few more moments, only to be met with silence.

_And?_ I prompted her further.

_We cannot make a decision until Murtagh and Thorn do._ She snorted to add emphasis to her point. _Whatever their choice is, it will affect ours._

_And what of my mother?_

_She will have to come with us, wherever we go. I do not wish to abandon her any more than you do. She is a Priestess, after all. The most experienced out of those alive, in fact, which technically makes her the High Priestess,_ Amera said. I hadn't thought about it that way, but I supposed she was right. As far as we knew, all of the Priestesses of Ashola were dead, besides me and my mother. And I had often wondered about the little witch-child, Elva. She had the purple eyes, as our people did, and she was gifted with magic. Though whether that be from the curse Eragon laid upon her, or natural occurrence, I could not be sure. I would ask my mother about it, when the time was right.

_Do you think there are any more of them out there?_ I asked.

_Priestesses? I cannot say. Asron used to recite their histories to me, when I was still in my egg. I can remember some of them still... As far as I know, Formora_ — _her mother was a Priestess, and her father was an elf_ — _was the last known Priestess, besides your mother. The others either died during the Fall, or had gone into hiding before then. It was no secret amongst them that Galbatorix lusted for their powers. Perhaps they will come out now that your father is dead, if any are in fact alive. Only time will tell._

_I hope there are some left alive,_ I mused. _I should like to meet them, wherever they are. Maybe my mother knows something we do not._

_Best not to bring it up, until she is back to herself._

_I don't know if that will ever happen, Amera,_ I mused quietly. _And perhaps that is for the best. She's suffered so much in her life. I think now it would be better for her to start over with a clean slate._

_But is that what she wants, little one?_

_I haven't asked her yet. My uncle asked me to wait to tell her about my life until after the realm is settled. I will tell her after we have our meeting with Murtagh and Thorn._

_A wise decision,_ she remarked. I saw the tip of her tail begin to twitch rapidly, and her claws rapped against the stone of the landing. And then I felt her buzzing excitement.

_What's got you all worked up?_ I prodded with a shrewd smile. _Excited at the prospect of seeing Thorn again, are we?_

_Do not pretend like you are not excited to see Murtagh as well,_ she quipped back impishly. She bared her teeth in a sort of dragon-smile, and I couldn't help but laugh at her.

_The difference being that I have_ known _Murtagh longer than you have_ known _Thorn._

_Not by much!_ She let out a deep growl and snapped her teeth at me. _Besides, I don't like what you're implying._

_Now, now Amera. You've never actually told me, you know._

_Told you what?_ She snorted and turned her face away from me, taking on a haughty look as she narrowed her silver eyes. I sent her a feeling of pressure and knowing, and I crooked an eyebrow at her. _Are you asking if we mated, Tabatha?_

_I am curious to know how far your relationship has progressed. Or is it even called a relationship?_ I laughed aloud at the feeling of indignation she sent me.

_Not that it's any of your business,_ she hissed, _but no, we did not. Dragons are creatures of instinct, it's true, but I am not so easily won over by a pretty show of colors and fire. He'll have to do more than that to impress me. Besides, it's not as though dragons mate for life._

_But you like him, don't you?_ My tone had grown serious, and she fell quiet. I could feel the sadness emanating from her soul.

_I do,_ she finally admitted.

_Not much longer now,_ I said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, _and then we will see them again. We will keep each other strong._

_As we always have,_ she agreed. _When will you contact him, to determine a meeting place?_

_A week before it's time,_ I replied, swinging my legs through empty space. _I think we should meet somewhere north of Ceunon and west of Du Weldenvarden. That way we'll be sure it's secluded. I thought we might go out this next week to find a suitable meeting place ahead of time._

_That sounds like a solid plan,_ she said, resting her forelegs on the landing so she was laying down. _What do you think they will decide?_ Her question caught me off guard, and I had to think about it for a long while.

Finally, I came to the conclusion that I had no answer to give her. _I really can't say, Amera. They have suffered so much pain and hurt; I do not know if six months is long enough for them to heal and feel comfortable rejoining society._

_What if they never do?_ She let out a groan and laid her head upon her paws.

_The thought has crossed my mind, I must admit. Ultimately, if they feel they can never return, then we must accept their decision, no matter how much we may not like it._

_Since when did you become the wise one?_ Amera teased, flicking my back with her tail.

_After my father died, I found myself looking at life through a clearer lens. Our mission is complete Amera._ I let that statement sink in for a moment, until I could feel her understanding wash over me. _Now that we have completed the task that was destined for us, we must decide for ourselves what we wish to do with our lives. From now on, our life is our own to control; our destiny is our own to shape._

_I never thought of it that way,_ she admitted.

_You knew of our destiny longer than I did. It will take you more time to be completely free of it._

_Well,_ she began slowly, _if I am to create my own destiny, I am glad you will be at my side to help me do it._

_So am I._ It felt as though a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, though I could not fix on the time nor the place when it had been put there. Yes, we still had duties and responsibilities to the people of this land, but for the first time I felt as though I was able to be my own person. I was not hell-bent on some mission from the gods, and I was not being hunted down at every twist and turn of my journey. And with my newfound freedom, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. We could really make a difference in the future of this realm; we could help shape what it is to become, and have our names live on in history. Or we could go with Eragon, and help him restore the rightful order of the Riders. Whatever choice we made, the important thing was that it was _ours_ to make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Next part will be out on Sunday. :-)


	67. Nothing To Forgive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the final decision for Murtagh and Thorn. What will happen!? Read on to find out! :P
> 
> Warning: There is some suggestive material in this chapter, but nothing graphic. Still, read at your own discretion.

As we had discussed, Amera and I set out on a week-long journey to find a place suitable for meeting with Murtagh and Thorn. We headed north out of the city in the early morning hours, when dawn was just barely breaking in the east. From up here, the world looked so small covered in the pink and orange hues of dawn. But it was beautiful; a breathtaking sight. In the east, it was clear. But in the northwest, the direction we were headed, great thunderheads gathered and bunched in the sky, little crackles of lightning passing between them like secret messages.

_That does not look good,_ Amera remarked, and I could feel her grumbling beneath me.

_No,_ I agreed. _No it does not. Stay low to the ground, and we'll pass under it. I don't want to be caught in the clouds._

_Let us hope they do not decide to drift,_ she said, angling downwards and bringing us closer to the ground. The tips of her claws raked against the stalks of grass, and she held her wings parallel to the ground, only flapping them occasionally when she needed to propel us forward.

In about two hours time, the storm met us head on. Great thunderheads poured large droplets of water down upon us, stinging my skin where they landed. I reached into my power and created a shield around us, if only to shield us from the pain. On and on we flew, but still I could not see an end to the storm. It took a few hours, but I soon grew too tired to maintain the shield any longer. So, I let it drop, only to feel the sting of the rain once again.

At what I assumed was midday, we passed around the city of Ceunon, with its houses and buildings all stacked one on top of the other. We gave it a broad berth, and no one seemed to notice us. At least, if they did, they did not raise any alarm. I supposed it would soon become commonplace once more to see a Dragon Rider soaring through the sky, and the thought brought us both happiness.

When the city was behind us, the rain let up and I could once again see clearly. The land here was covered in trees, with very little open space to be found. I had hoped we would be able to find a suitable place here, but my confidence was beginning to wane.

_Do not lose hope,_ Amera said reassuringly. _Look, there. I think I see something._ I followed her gaze to a large copse of trees with a clearing in the middle. And in the clearing, stood a castle.

_Let's see if anyone's home._ We circled above the clearing slowly, and I used my Sight to look for any auras. I saw a few yellow and white auras lazily strolling through the trees, which I could tell were deer. I had to chide Amera for angling to go after them. Other than the deer and various other wildlife in the forest, there didn't seem to be any humans in the castle. _Looks like it's clear,_ I said, and Amera shifted her wings so we would descend. She landed softly in the grass surrounding the castle.

_I wonder who lived here,_ she mused quietly, staring up at the soaring towers and parapets. This far north, I'm sure the owners of this castle had long been susceptible to attacks from the Urgal clans. That wouldn't be a problem anymore, not with the alliance between Nar Garzhvog and Nasuada. Whoever had lived here, I hoped they could return one day, if they were even alive.

_Come on,_ I said, walking towards the mighty stone fortress. _Let's take a look around._

The grounds were quiet. It seemed all life had deserted this place, though some of it still lingered in the bordering forests. On the northern side of the castle, a wall was caved in, exposing what looked to be the Great Hall. After a few more minutes of silent inspection, Amera and I deemed this would be the perfect place to meet Murtagh and Thorn. Soon after, we departed, back to Ilirea.

 

* * *

 

"How did it go?" Eragon asked quietly from his place by the window. He was inspecting some scroll he'd retrieved from the castle vaults. Something about ancient saddle-making techniques.

"We found a suitable place," I replied shortly. As the end of the six months drew ever closer, I found myself growing increasingly nervous. And that nervousness sometimes translated into shortness with those I spoke to. "Eragon," I continued, sighing a bit, "it's been a long day. I think I'd like to take a bath and then head to bed."

He looked up from his scroll and blinked rapidly a few times. "I shall leave you to it then," he replied, gathering up the scroll and his other things and heading towards the door. I stayed in my chair, staring off into space. But then he stopped and put a hand on my shoulder. "It will be alright, Tabatha, whatever they decide."

I looked up at him and offered my most convincing smile. Then, mercifully, he left. When he was gone, I did not go to take a bath, as I'd told Eragon. Instead, I hurried across the room to a trunk that sat beside my bed. I lifted the latch and raised the lid to reveal several articles of folded clothing. To anyone looking at it on the surface, it appeared to only house miscellaneous clothes, but I dug through those to reveal a wooden insert that concealed the bottom half of the trunk. I removed the insert and set it aside. Underneath that was the cloak Asron had given me, along with Murtagh's bow, and the scrying mirror. I took the mirror by the handle and held it gingerly. Then, I crossed back to my chair by the empty hearth. For some reason, I could not feel the cold.

"Draumr kópa," I whispered, and I watched as the surface rippled like waves upon a lake after a rock has been dropped into it. Out of the ripples, a shape started to take form, one that I recognized instantly. Finally, the ripples settled, and I could see Murtagh's face clearly.

"Tabby," he whispered, and a small smile broke across his face. His edges were shrouded in darkness, but I could see him well enough. "Is it time already?"

"It is," I replied breathlessly. I couldn't believe this was actually happening. I had waited for so long, and yet it felt like the six months went by so quickly at the same time. How fickle, time is. "Amera and I think we have found a suitable place to meet, far away from any civilization. It's an abandoned castle, north of Ceunon. You'll be coming from the north, so you'll know it by the wall that is caved in on the Great Hall."

He did not say anything for a long moment, only continued to look at me. "How I have missed you," he finally said quietly.

"And I you." There was so much more I wanted to say, to tell him, but it could wait until we saw one another face to face. "Only a week, until we are in each other's presence."

"A week," he agreed. Slowly, his features faded from the glass, until I was once again staring at my own reflection. I looked haggard, and there were dark circles under my eyes. Perhaps a bath and a long night's rest would do me some good after all.

 

* * *

 

The final week had flown by in a flash. Every day seemed shorter than the last, and I was eternally grateful for that. The night before we were set to leave, I told my mother that I would be gone for a few days. She asked where I was going, but I still had not told her of my relationship with Murtagh, so I kept the details vague. As far as she―and anyone besides Eragon and Nasuada―knew, I was away on orders from the queen. Mother wished me well, as she always did before I went away on a mission, and then I left her to her quiet evening with Lord Braeden. They had spent nearly every waking moment in each other's company, and I was glad of that.

When I returned to my rooms, I was surprised to find Eragon there waiting for me. "What are you doing here?" I asked him, not unkindly.

"I wanted to wish you well, before you left," he said, offering me a small smile. He came over to me as I closed the door, and wrapped me in a tight embrace. "Tomorrow is a very important day for you."

"Yes, it is," I said uncertainly. We walked over to the chairs that were positioned before my hearth and sat across from one another.

"There is something else I wanted to tell you," he continued, clasping his hands in front of him. "I've received word from Arya." I could see the excitement lighting up his eyes.

"That is good to hear, Eragon," I replied, genuinely happy for him. "What did she have to say? Did she offer any explanation as to why she never wrote you back?"

"She did not," he said, "but she wished to meet me in private. She says there is something she wanted to show me. Arya also requested that you be present, but I understand if you don't come."

I felt the uncertainty rising in my chest. "Why would she want me there?" I asked. "You of all people should know the history between us."

"I'm not sure, Tabby. Her letter was very vague. I'm to meet her tomorrow afternoon." He paused a moment, looking away from me. "Do you know when you will return?" he asked.

"I won't be gone more than three days," I said. "Though it will more than likely be shorter than that."

"Well, if Arya decides not to stay after our meeting tomorrow, I will let you know what it is she wished to show us." I nodded my agreement, and then Eragon wished me luck once more before departing. When he was gone, I busied myself with preparing for bed, trying to occupy my mind so it wouldn't stray to creating scenarios of how our meeting would play out tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Amera was awake and pacing back and forth in her cave when I arrived early next morning. The sun had not yet risen in the east, and the outside world was covered in darkness, but we two were more awake than we'd ever been.

_This is it,_ I said as I tightened the straps of her saddle around her belly.

_It might be,_ she said pointedly. _We still do not know what they have decided._

_But we'll find out today._ She grunted her agreement, and I tightened the last of the straps around her shoulder, then patted her reassuringly. _Alright,_ I said, _let's get going._ I climbed up into the saddle, made sure Manin and Murtagh's bow were secure in their sheaths, and then strapped myself in. When I was ready, Amera unfurled her wings and leapt off the ledge, beating against the early morning air until we rose up above the dragon hold. And when we were free from the overhang, we turned ourselves northwest towards Ceunon.

Once again, dark thunderheads rose up to meet us as we headed further north. They met us just before the city, pelting us with droplets of rain and pebble sized pieces of hail. I shielded us once more, and only hoped that we had enough energy to keep it up. Ceunon passed beneath us swiftly, and then we were into the abandoned countryside.

_I don't know how much longer I can hold the shield up, Amera,_ I said exasperatedly.

_Let it fall. We're almost there._ The shield came down and immediately my hair and clothes were soaked. It wasn't much longer until I felt the chill of the wind seeping into my bones. Amera beat her wings harder against the wind, but I could tell she was slowing down. And by the time the dilapidated castle came into our view, the day was nearly gone. It had taken us twice the time to get here as before; I only hoped Murtagh and Thorn would not think we'd decided against coming.

Amera circled over the castle, until we faced the north wall that was falling down. Through the large hole that looked into the Great Hall, I could see a fire blazing in the huge hearth, and the glow of Thorn's red scales refracting on the walls. Amera folded her wings suddenly and dropped down into the hall with a thud. The two of them turned at our arrival; Thorn's tail immediately began to twitch in excitement, and he came over to where we were. Hurriedly, I unstrapped my legs from the saddle and slid down Amera's slick side, landing on the stone floor with a wet slap. I ran to Murtagh where he stood by the hearth, unable to contain my excitement any longer.

He opened his arms to allow me to jump into them, and I suddenly forgot the wet and the cold in the heat of his embrace. I felt so happy I couldn't decide whether I wanted to laugh or cry. Behind us, I could hear the two dragons inspecting one another, circling as far as they could in the limited space. I pulled away from Murtagh, and he put his hands on either side of my face, just looking at me for a moment.

"Tabatha―" Whatever he'd been about to say was cut off by a sudden rain within the Great Hall. I turned and saw Amera shaking herself dry like a wet dog, and the two of us had to laugh.

_We shall leave you,_ she said once she was done shaking. _There's a cave in the mountain, not far from here. Will you be alright by yourselves?_

_We'll be fine,_ I assured her. _You two be careful._ She snorted in response. Before they left, I relieved her of her saddle. Thorn was already free of his, so once I was done the two of them turned and leapt into the sky through the hole, disappearing into the gloom of the storm, until they were far enough away I could no longer sense either of them.

When I turned back to the hall, Murtagh stood waiting for me. Before I could speak, he took hold of the back of my neck and crashed his lips into my own. We stayed lost in one another's touch for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, we pulled away from one another, and I leaned my forehead against him.

"I have missed you," I whispered. He planted a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Come," he said, pulling away, "we have much to discuss." He led me to the huge table that was still left in the hall, and where he'd laid out a simple meal for us.

"I am sorry the storm delayed us, else we would have been here hours ago. Did you have trouble finding the place?"

He shook his head, taking the seat at the head of the table while I sat to his right. "It was a two day journey for us," he replied.

"So far?" My heart sank a little when I realized just how far away they had gone from Alagaёsia.

"The place we have made our own is far to the north of here," he explained slowly. "It is secluded, and hidden...and entirely fit for our needs."

"And what of your castle? The one you said you would build..." I picked at the food upon my plate, keeping my eyes averted. I'd looked forward to this meeting every day for the past six months, and now that it was here, I was nervous.

He was quiet for a long moment, staring at his own plate. And when I finally looked up at him, his brow was furrowed. Finally, he looked up at me with those wolfish grey eyes. "Can we not speak of that yet? I would hear what you've been up to for the past six months instead." His words did not instill a lot of confidence in me, but I decided to humor him.

"Much has happened," I began slowly. "Nasuada was made queen, which all of us expected. Though they did give me the chance to claim it."

"And you did not?"

"No," I said, giving him a small smile, "I did not." He gave me an approving look before I continued. "Anyways, Nasuada didn't become queen without a fight from Orrin. She practically had to give him half of the south for him to comply and give up his claim. And then Teirm decided to rebel and Nasuada agreed to give them their independence, as long as they swore fealty to her as High Queen. I think you'll find it is a much changed world since you've left."

"It sounds like Nasuada is doing a good enough job of ruling though." He took a drink from his wineskin, and then continued, "Tell me what else. Has Eragon found a suitable place to raise the dragons?" I hesitated, and it did not escape Murtagh's keen senses. "Tabatha, what is it?"

"Eragon..." I stopped, unsure if it was my place to tell him. "Eragon and Saphira have decided to take the eggs, and all the Eldunarí... They are leaving Alagaёsia."

"What?" He seemed shocked at what I had told him. "Where will they go? And why?"

"He believes it is the only solution to the problem of reestablishing the Riders," I explained. "Any place in Alagaёsia will be too close to civilization. Wild dragons are known to be fond of livestock, and he fears they will create problems for Nasuada's reign. Besides, the Riders should not favor any one race over the other, and he worries that if the dragons are raised nearer to one group of people, it could sow conflict. It is not ideal, but he is right in that it is the only way. They are going east, to the uncharted lands beyond the Hadarac Desert."

"You speak as if you are not going with them." Once again, his skills of perception astounded me.

"Well," I said hesitantly, "that depends on you and Thorn." Drawing in a deep breath, I prepared myself to tell him what Amera and I had decided. "If you two decide to come back to Alagaёsia, then we will journey with Eragon, and I would ask you to come with us and help to train the next generation of Riders. If, however, you have decided to stay in the wilderness, then we will stay in Ilirea."

"I do not understand," he said, and I could see the confusion in his eyes. "Why would you stay in Ilirea when Eragon needs your help? I know you have family here still, but I would argue that Eragon needs you more than they do."

"That is the other thing I need to tell you." He fell silent, eyeing me carefully and waiting for me to continue. "In the aftermath of the battle with my father, the dungeons were emptied of all their prisoners. We found... My mother was amongst them, Murtagh. She is alive. For whatever reason, Galbatorix kept her alive and concealed her existence from everyone."

"That cannot be," he said breathlessly.

"He tortured her in that dungeon for seventeen years," I continued. "When she came out of it, her mind was a mess. An elvish healer has been working with her, and she's gotten better, but there is still a long road before us. I have thought of taking her away from here, far from the painful memories that plague her mind, but I do not know if I can help her on my own. I am not sure if taking her away will do more harm than good."

"It sounds as if you already have your answer," he said quietly, reaching across the table and taking my hand up in his.

"Then you have decided not to return," I whispered, feeling the tears come to my eyes. He pressed his mouth into a thin line, but his silence only confirmed my suspicions.

"Half a year is not enough time, Tabatha," he said, tightening his grip on my hand. "This time alone has been good for us. Under Galbatorix's crushing grip we could not bond as a Rider and dragon ought to. But now, we have been given that opportunity. All we need is more time."

I had fallen quiet, but my mind was racing. I'd had the feeling in the weeks leading up to this moment that I already knew what he would decide. I just hadn't allowed my heart to admit it. "How long?" I asked, my voice sounding small and defeated.

"I do not know." The tears escaped from my eyes, and I found I could not look at him for fear of more coming. His hand left mine and reached up to wipe the tears from my cheek. "I am sorry, Tabatha"

"I understand," I replied, even though my heart was breaking. "I told you that I would not fight you on this... and I shall not. My heart is breaking, but I must let you go." There was nothing more he could say, and he knew it.

"Let us talk no more of this, only enjoy the time we have with one another." I wished in this moment that I could read his thoughts, to know what he was feeling and thinking. But my powers did not reach that far, and I could only guess, and hope, that he was hurting as much as I was. If he was not... I did not want to think about that. We finished our meal as he told me of the wonders he had seen in the north, with only very few people. But none of it held my interest. I put on a smile for him, no matter how forced it felt.

When our meal was finished, I helped him to store away his things. "How long do you have?" he asked.

"No more than a few days," I replied, rifling through my saddlebags.

"Well, neither of us is going anywhere in this storm." I kept my back turned to him, not really sure what I was looking for, only that I did not want to look at him. "Tabatha," he continued, "look at me?" I felt him move closer to me, and my heart hammering in my chest. His hand was on my shoulder, gripping it tightly. And then he was turning me to face him. "Stay with me," he said. "Only for a night, if you must. But stay with me." Through my tears, I nodded slightly. No matter how much heart break this might bring me, I knew that I had to. I might regret it forever if I did not.

 

* * *

 

Apparently, he and Thorn had gotten here a long while before Amera and I did, because he'd already explored half the castle. He showed me some of the more interesting rooms, and the library, which paled in comparison to the one in Ilirea's citadel. After the library, we returned to the Great Hall and retrieved our saddles, hefting them over our shoulders to carry further into the castle. It was not a huge fortress, not compared to the capital, but I soon grew tired of carrying the heavy saddle as we searched for a suitable place to rest. Finally, we found a large set of chambers, which looked like they might have belonged to the master of this castle.

Murtagh set down Thorn's saddle by the door, and I placed Amera's next to it. Then he started a fire in the large hearth on the opposite wall. It quickly warmed the chilly room, which I was glad for. Most of my clothes were still dripping with water, as was my hair. I inched closer to the fire, rubbing my hands together for warmth, and then he turned to look at me.

"Tabatha, your clothes are soaked," he said, concern coloring his voice. "Why did you not tell me?"

"Honestly, I didn't notice," I replied through chattering teeth. "I was so caught up in everything else, I just..."

"Come here," he said, motioning for me to come next to him. "We need to get you out of these clothes, or you'll catch your death."

I laughed at him. "You know as well as anyone that I have faced far worse than a little cold," I admonished him. But I took my cloak off, as he said, and laid it in a chair next to the hearth. Next came my jerkin, and then my tunic, until I was left only in my undershirt and corset. I turned towards him, and saw his eyes had never left me. "You should avert your eyes, sir, to preserve my modesty."

"It's not as though I haven't seen it before," he returned, his voice low and dark. I smirked at him and then gave a little shrug, turning back towards the fire and undoing the laces of my corset. Once that was free, I peeled off my undershirt, which was plastered to my skin from the rain. I threw it on the floor in front of the fire, letting the heat of the flames warm my bare skin. I felt it seep down to my core, and I closed my eyes to revel in the sensation.

Suddenly, I felt Murtagh behind me. His fingers brushed across the skin of my neck as he moved my hair over my shoulder, letting it cascade down my chest. My skin began to tingle where his fingers touched it, and then I felt his lips press against my neck, trailing kisses up to my ear. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, making me shiver.

I chuckled lightly. "I knew that was the only reason you liked me," I teased. He pulled away and then grabbed my shoulder, turning me to face him. The heat began to rise to my face, but his eyes stayed locked on mine.

"I do not like you, Tabatha," he said, leaning in and kissing my jaw. "I love you." I sucked in my breath, latching my hands onto his shoulders. "You are smart." He kissed my jaw again. "You are kind." He switched to the other side. "You are funny." He nibbled on my ear, sending shockwaves through my whole body, and I had to laugh at the tickling sensation. "And you are not afraid to share your opinion. You are headstrong, and you challenge me to be a better man." He brushed his thumb across my cheek, and I opened my eyes to look at him. "Your beauty is just an added benefit." He smirked in that way that sent my heart fluttering, and I couldn't understand how he did this to me.

We had come to the point where speech disappeared into silence, but words could not express what I was feeling right now. And when his lips finally met mine, the world around us melted away. There was only us, and the ever-shrinking space between us. He erased the space quickly, taking me by the hips and pressing my body close against his. It still wasn't close enough. We were on the bed in an instant, my fingers tugging at the hem of his tunic. He tore the shirt over his head, flinging it to the floor and then pressing down on top of me, kissing his way down my neck.

"I don't want to take advantage of the situation. Tell me to stop if this isn't what you want," he murmured against my skin, tickling me with his breath.

"You are not taking advantage," I said, running my fingers through his dark hair as he kissed my abdomen. "I have wanted this for a very long time." I felt as though I was floating outside of my body, and the only thing grounding me to this moment was the touch of his skin against mine. And if this was to be the last time we saw one another, I wanted to make the most of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all for now! Comments are always appreciated! :-)


	68. The Final Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the next installment. I wanted to let you all know that I've monkeyed with the ancient language portions in this chapter a little bit, since we are only given very few words from the text. The words that I have crafted were taken from the Old Norse language, and have only been altered very slightly. Translations are given.

I had no idea what time it was, but it had to have been after midnight. The house was quiet, but I did not feel unsettled. In fact, I felt as comfortable as I ever had in the last six months. We lay under the heavy furs that served as blankets, wrapped around one another and sharing warmth. My head lay on his chest, and my fingers traced invisible circles into his skin absently. His breathing was measured and even, lulling me into a relaxed state.

Murtagh stared into the crackling flames in the hearth, his hand stroking my shoulder in an even rhythm. The silence between us was not uncomfortable; it was familiar, and easy. I wished we could go on like this forever, secluded from the world with only each other and our dragons for company.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him quietly. My fingers did not stop their drawing; it seemed they were doing it of their own accord now.

"That I would like nothing more than to hold you like this forever," he replied finally after a brief silence.

"So would I." He drew in his breath slowly, and then exhaled it quickly in a sigh. I angled my head to look up at him, and saw his brow furrowed, a tell-tale sign that he was absorbed in his thoughts. "But we cannot," I whispered, uttering aloud what I knew he was thinking. He turned his grey eyes upon me, and I saw the sadness within them.

"No," he affirmed, planting a quick kiss on top of my head. "We cannot. But you don't have to leave just yet, do you?"

"Not yet. I will stay as long as you want me to." He nodded slightly, but I could tell his mind was far away. "What troubles you?" I asked.

"I worry for you," he admitted.

"About what?"

"Eragon is leaving you alone, in a country that is just beginning to shake free of the tyranny of a mad Rider. I am afraid for your safety," he said.

"In all fairness to Eragon," I quipped back, "it is my decision to stay in Alagaësia while he and Saphira journey east. And while I appreciate your concern, I am quite confident in Amera's ability to eat any would-be attackers." He chuckled slightly at my joke, but I could see the worry had not abated completely.

"Promise me you'll be careful," he whispered. I nodded slightly, which seemed to satisfy him. "If anything dramatic changes in the political climate, I want you to contact me using the mirror. Even if I'm not sure it's safe for us yet, Thorn and I will return, and help in any way that we can."

"I will," I replied. "And will you tell me, if you decide to return?" I was hesitant to say "when you return", for I wasn't altogether sure they would at this point. It was all up in the air, and I found myself afraid to talk about it much further.

"Of course," he said firmly, and giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. We stayed in silence for a little longer, but then I pushed back the furs and hurried across the room to where Amera's saddle leaned against the wall. The stone floor was cold, despite the heat of the room, so I tip-toed across it in my bare feet quickly. Murtagh chuckled at me, but when I turned around and he saw what was held in my hands, he fell quiet.

I raced back over and jumped into the bed, covering my shivering body and letting myself get warm again. "I've kept it, all this time," I explained as I carefully pulled the bow out of its matching quiver. He took it from me gingerly, running his calloused hands over the smooth shaft of wood.

"I had thought it lost," he whispered, gazing at the bow.

"I want you to have it back. It never really felt like mine anyways," I said. "Besides, I get the feeling you'll need it more than I will in the coming days. Who knows what kind of dangerous creatures you'll come across in the wilderness?" He smirked slightly at that, and I knew that I was right.

"Thank you for taking care of it," he said, finally looking up at me. "It's very precious to me." The way he spoke made me think it was not the bow itself that was precious to him, but rather some sentimental attachment he held to it.

"Where did you get it?" I prodded. Although we had known each other for some time, Murtagh had always been very vague about his past. Eragon had told me a little about their mother, and her time as Morzan's Black Hand, but I was still mostly in the dark about where he'd come from.

"It was given to me as a gift, from someone I cared about very much." He looked back at the bow and tightened his grip on the worn piece of leather about the middle. "When I was a young man, being raised by Galbatorix in Urû'baen, I was secluded from most of the other people inside the citadel. Galbatorix didn't want me getting any ideas in my head that did not align with his glorious vision. But he never foresaw that the man he'd tasked to watch over me would plant those very morals and ideals in me that prompted me to leave in the first place."

"Who was he?" I asked, and I could hear the eagerness in my own voice.

"His name was Tornac, and he was the closest thing I've ever had to a father," Murtagh said quietly. "He taught me what it is to be an honorable man, and everything I knew about combat."

I watched as a shadow passed over his face, and I hesitated to ask my next question. "What happened to him?" Murtagh stayed silent for a long while; so long, in fact, that I almost thought he might not answer me.

Finally, he said, "He died... trying to help me escape the city. Galbatorix's men slaughtered him, and he sacrificed himself that I might get away. It was because of his death that I sought Eragon out in the first place."

"He sounds like a wonderful man," I mused quietly. I couldn't help but think of the similarities in Murtagh's relationship with Tornac and my relationship with Brom. "I am sorry for what happened to him."

"He was," Murtagh agreed, finally setting the bow aside and looking back at me. He put his large hands on my waist and drew me closer to him. I leaned back against the headboard of the bed and the pillows, and then he bounded up out of the bed quickly. "I have something for you as well." He dug through one of his saddlebags until he found what it was he searched for, and then came back to me. "I want to give it to you, as a reminder of me," he continued, pressing the small object in his hands into mine. I opened my fingers to see what lay in my palm.

It was a bracelet, just like the one he'd given me so long ago. Except the colors were different now. "I could not forget you, even if I tried," I reassured him with a small smile. He tied the bracelet about my wrist, just above the first one he'd given me. The colors on the new bracelet were brighter, and I thought he might have imbued some magic in the making of this one. A crimson band weaved in and out of a royal purple one, both of them held together by a strand of brilliant silver. The red strand obviously represented Thorn and Murtagh, and the purple and silver strands were for me and Amera. We were bound together, our souls eternally weaved into one another's. "It's beautiful," I whispered, feeling tears come to my eyes.

When I looked back up at him, he pulled my face close to his and kissed me deeply. He pulled away after a moment, and rested his forehead against mine. "You are still set on waiting for me?" he questioned, and I heard the uncertainty in his voice.

"For eternity, if I have to," I said. He kissed me once again, longer this time. I felt that all-too-familiar fire spark in my belly, and his hands grabbed at me with a greater urgency. I sank down into the bed under his larger frame, and as he pressed against me I had to fight back the tears threatening to spill out. I would hold onto this moment as long as I could. As long as he was by my side, I didn't have to think about leaving him again.

 

* * *

 

When dawn broke on the horizon, we emerged from the bedchamber, silently gathering our things and heading back to the Great Hall. I looked beyond the fallen wall, and saw that the storm clouds had cleared away, leaving the pinkish sky clear in the early morning light. I could just feel the barest wisps of Amera's consciousness brushing against mine.

 _I am close, little one,_ she said, her voice sounding far away and slightly muffled.

 _Join us, both of you. We'll be leaving today._ As I said those words, and admitted the reality to myself, I felt a tightening in my chest. It wasn't too much longer before Amera and Thorn dropped down into the Great Hall. We saddled our respective dragons in silence, drawing out this moment for as long as we both could possibly bear. Amera leaned over and nudged her head into Thorn's shoulder, and he groaned slightly as he nudged her head right back. My chest ached with the longing I could feel emanating from both of them. Murtagh finished tightening the straps on Thorn's saddle, and then he came around Amera's side to stand next to me.

"So this is goodbye," I whispered.

"I wish it did not have to be this way." He placed a hand on my lower back and the other on the back of my neck, drawing me into his chest. We stayed like that for a long while; it was all I could do to keep from breaking down. "And I wish I could say it was only for now... but I do not know that for certain." His words hurt me, but I knew that was not his intent. I understood about the bond between a Rider and dragon, and I knew that they needed to make the best decision for the two of them. If our positions had been switched, and Amera and I were the ones who needed to be alone, I knew I would have done the same.

The four of us exited the Great Hall, into the crisp morning air. The last tendrils of winter were slowly fading away, and spring was soon to come. The birds were just waking up in their trees, singing their songs to the new day. I wished I could share in their joy. The two dragons stood side-by-side, and I knew they were conversing amongst themselves.

"Keep one another safe," I said to Murtagh, keeping my eyes on the dragons. Their sadness on top of mine was nearly stifling.

"You know that we will," he assured me. "And you know that I ask the same of you two."

"Of course." I turned to him, and put a hand up to his cheek. He leaned into my touch, closing his eyes to savor the sensation that much more. "Eka dunei ono, Murtagh Morzansson, Shur'tugal. Atra vér finna endr, unin thornessa líf orono du nesté." He seemed surprised―shocked, even―that I had spoken the words in the ancient language. But I meant them with all of my heart. What I'd said was this: "I love you, Murtagh Morzansson, Dragon Rider. May we meet again, in this life or the next."

"Eka dunei ono fór," he replied. _I love you too._ "Eka weohnata dunei ono ávalta." _I will always love you._ We shared one final kiss, until I could no longer bear it. I pulled away from him and ran to my dragon, vaulting up into her saddle as quickly as I could.

Murtagh stood at Thorn's side, gazing up at me. "Farwell, Murtagh and Thorn," I called. Amera turned and began to beat her wings, lifting us up off the ground. The green grass began to pull away beneath us.

The last thing we heard was their combined voices, saying, _Farewell, Amera and Tabatha._

 

* * *

 

Our flight back to Ilirea remained silent; the grief we shared spoke for itself. I stared blankly ahead of us, getting lost in the sound of Amera's wings beating steadily. She knew the way back well enough, and did not need me to guide her. As well, I'm sure she was lost in her own thoughts. What more was there to be said, after all? They were gone, perhaps forever. We had lost them.

When we finally reached the city at midday, she landed in the quadrangle, scattering the people that were gathered there. As soon as we landed, Eragon came running out of the main gates of the citadel, sprinting towards us at a breakneck pace. And he had a huge grin on his face.

"Tabatha!" he shouted joyously. I unstrapped myself from the saddle and slid down Amera's side to the ground.

"Eragon? What is it?" I asked in concern when he skidded to a stop in front of me.

"I'm glad you have returned so quickly," he said breathlessly. "There is something we must show you. We were just about to take Nasuada to see, but now you can come along as well."

"What is it?" I questioned.

"You'll see," he replied cryptically. Saphira suddenly appeared in the air over the citadel, a figure upon her back. "We'll meet you at the top of the hill." He held an arm up over his head, and Saphira swooped down to snatch him up off the ground. I stared up in wonder and watched as he leapt agilely up her side and into the saddle, taking a seat in front of the queen.

 _What was that all about?_ Amera asked in confusion.

 _I have no idea,_ I replied with a sigh. _Come on, we'd better see what it is._ I crawled back up her leg and into the saddle, not bothering to strap myself in, and she returned to the air. Quickly catching up to Saphira, we followed behind them out of the shadow of the overhang, and up over it. The overhang quickly gave way to grass, and Saphira landed. Amera followed suit and I dropped down onto the soil of the hill. It was a beautiful view of the surrounding area from up here, but I did not have time to take it in. For before us stood a glittering, green dragon.

And beside him, stood the last person I would have expected. "Arya," Nasuada said, a hint of wonder in her voice.

"My lady," Arya said, inclining her head. "May I present to you Fírnen."

"You are a Rider?" I said incredulously, looking between the pair of them. Fírnen snorted at me, extending his head to sniff me and Amera. The green and the purple dragon eyed one another carefully, and I saw Saphira watching them with interest. His gold eyes appraised her form, and then he drew away, seemingly satisfied. I looked back at Arya, and noticed she wore a golden circlet on her head, with a teardrop shaped diamond resting on her forehead. "And you are queen?" Something within me began to stir, and I thought that it might be anger.

"I can understand your confusion," she began slowly, "but please allow me to explain." She told us then of how Fírnen had hatched for her upon their arrival in Ellesméra, and that the elves had still insisted she take up her mother's mantle. It had not been an easy decision for her to make, but it was one she would stand by. I could understand that the elves would not harbor the same grief against Riders being the rulers of races, but the idea still unsettled me. So soon after releasing Alagaësia from my father's hold, it just seemed... _wrong._ But the elves were their own people, and they had made their decision.

"We are honored," I said finally, bowing at the waist and putting my right hand over my heart, "to count you amongst our Order."

"Eragon and I have spoken at length," she said, casting her glance over to him. I noticed now that there was a difference in her, a certain light in her eyes where once there had not been. Eragon, too, seemed to be grinning from ear to ear. "I have decided not to accompany you all on your journey to the east. I will remain here to govern my people, and to ferry the eggs that are left behind over the realm." Understanding settled over me, and I knew that Amera and I could not hold back any longer.

 _It's time,_ I said to her, and she groaned in response.

 _Yes, it seems so._ She nudged me with her nose to show her agreement, and then I drew in a large breath to strengthen my resolve.

"Amera and I have reached a decision on that particular matter as well," I said, looking between Eragon and Nasuada in turn. They waited patiently, but I could tell that Eragon was especially anxious. "We have decided to stay in Alagaësia. I cannot, in good conscience, leave my mother at a time like this. And I fear that if I tried to relocate her to a strange and potentially dangerous land it would be detrimental to her health. We will not forget our duties as dragon and Rider, but I believe that I can better serve our cause here."

"What are you planning to do?" Eragon asked, his voice suddenly raspy and full of hurt. His dark eyes, too, betrayed what he was feeling.

"I will be your ambassador to Alagaësia, as the Riders should be represented amongst her people. We will aid as much as we can in the rebuilding of your queendom, Nasuada, and we will keep the peace amongst its inhabitants. And, when the time comes, we will ferry the next generation of Riders to Eragon wherever he may be, so that they may be trained to strengthen our Order."

Nasuada came over to me, a small smile on her radiant face. "You have made a wise decision, Tabatha," she said approvingly. I looked over at Eragon, and I saw there was hurt in his eyes, but he nodded ever so slightly. I knew we would speak more later, in private.

Amera and the two other dragons began to walk further along the hill, and then they leapt into the sky, the sunlight flashing brilliantly against their scales. I walked over to Arya, where she still stood staring after them. She turned to look at me when I stopped beside her, the apprehension clear on her face.

"We are well and truly sisters of the same order now," I said slowly, "bound by the ancient pact of the Dragon Riders. Whatever anger there was between us, let it be put to rest."

"And so it shall be," she replied, offering me a smile. When that was done, I walked over to Eragon.

"Are you angry with me?" I asked him.

He shook his head, and pressed his mouth into a thin line. "No, I am not angry. But I cannot say that I am not saddened by your decision. I had hoped you would come with us, but I understand why you cannot." He sighed slightly and stared at the ground, a thousand questions swimming in his dark eyes. "By their absence, I take it Murtagh and Thorn have decided not to return."

"Aye, you would be correct in that assumption," I said, forcing past the catch in my throat. "Half a year was just not enough time for them."

"Did they say when they might return?"

I fell silent and gazed out over the sweeping vistas of the countryside all around us. "I do not know if they ever will," I whispered, my voice almost being stolen away by the wind that swept over the top of the hill. "My father broke them; destroyed them... I cannot imagine what it will take to heal those wounds."

"Time cannot heal all wounds," Eragon said somberly, "and I think, in time, they will come to realize that. They know that they have family and friends here, and people who love them. One day, they will ache for that, and we will be here to welcome them home." I looked into his dark eyes and smiled, his words giving me heart.

"Thank you, Eragon," I said. "I needed that." I leaned over and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

"Come," he said, turning towards the two other women. "There will be celebrations in Arya's honor tonight. We should join them."

"I don't think I'm up for that right now," I admitted. "I think I'd rather just get cleaned up and rest for the remainder of the day."

He nodded slightly. "Of course," Eragon replied. "Whatever you need, I am here for you."

"I know, Eragon, and I am forever thankful for that." We headed back towards the stone overhang, and the steep path that would lead us down into the city. It had been difficult to come to our choice, but now that it was out in the open, I felt a little freer. I could see my future laid out before me, and although it didn't feel like it now, I knew that I could do it. Amera and I could do it together.


	69. Departure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note for this chapter: I removed the scene with Roran and Birgit and the whole blood price thing, cuz, well...it was just taking up space and doesn't really do anything for my plot so... sorry? I guess. Anywho, hope you enjoy this chapter!

"So soon, Eragon?" The words came out of my mouth in a breathless whisper, and my heart began to race in my chest. I thought I'd have more time. We stood on the balcony off my room, which overlooked a section of the gardens. When he'd come to my chambers, asking to speak to me, I hadn't imagined what he had in mind. I knew he and Saphira did not wish to linger too long in Alagaësia, but I never dreamed they would want to leave in the next few weeks.

"We have been idling for too long," he explained calmly, placing his hand overtop of mine. "It does us no good to put off the inevitable any longer. I worry about the dragons inside their eggs; they have been there for too long already."

I chewed on my bottom lip nervously, wrapped in my own thoughts. In all the time I'd known that Eragon and Saphira were planning to leave, I had never actually prepared myself for this eventuality. "Have you told Roran and Katrina?" I asked.

"I will today." I gave him an admonishing look. He shouldn't have waited so long, but I understand why he did. "Roran will be the hardest one to convince that I'm doing the right thing," he said, chuckling slightly and fiddling with a loose piece of wood on the railing. "Do you think I'm doing the right thing, Tabatha?" This last part he whispered, and when I looked over at him I saw his brow knitted together, and the doubt written all over his face.

"Eragon," I said softly, drawing his dark eyes up to mine. "How long have we been friends?"

He smirked slightly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "As long as I can remember. I had wandered into the common pasture; I couldn't have been more than five years old. And you pulled me out of the way of getting trampled by a bull. We were inseparable from that day on, weren't we?"

"Much to my aunt's chagrin," I said, laughing softly. "She wanted me to grow up to be a lady, and now look at me. But here is my point, Eragon: in the nearly thirteen years we have known one another, have you ever known me to keep my opinions to myself?"

He had to laugh at that. "You know that's never been an issue," he replied.

"So don't you think I would tell you if I thought you were being a dolt?" I arched my eyebrow at him, and he responded with a sheepish grin. I reached over and put a hand on his cheek, angling his face so that he would look at me. "Regardless of whether I thought you were making the wrong decision, this was a choice you had to make on your own. You're the Elder Rider now, Eragon. The only person whose counsel you must seek now is Saphira's. Until the Riders are rebuilt, you cannot afford to doubt yourselves. I do not mean to sound coarse, I only wish for you to understand."

"I understand," he said quietly. Then I noticed he was hesitating in whatever else he was about to say. "Tabby, there is something I must tell you." His tone had grown serious, so I drew my hand away from him.

"What is it?" I dreaded to hear whatever it was. What more could happen to me in such a short amount of time? I'd already lost the man I love, and now I'm losing my best friends for who knows how long.

"Do you remember when we went to Teirm with Brom so long ago?" he began. I couldn't imagine what he was getting after, but I nodded my head all the same. "Well, I met Angela there for the first time. She told my fortune after Solembum spoke to me. And... she foretold that I would leave Alagaësia... and never return." I sucked in my breath quickly, feeling my eyes go wide in shock.

"Why did you never tell me this, Eragon?" I hissed quietly, probably more unkindly than I ought to have been.

"I never wanted to believe that it was true," he explained apologetically. "But there are other things that have come to pass that she also predicted, and now I'm inclined to believe she was telling the truth."

"What other things?"

"She said that I would have a romance with a woman of noble birth," he said, laughing slightly. "When I found out about your father... honestly, I thought it would be you. Though that thought was banished fairly quickly." He gave me a knowing look. "Then I believed it might have been Nasuada."

"And is it?" I teased, though I now realized what he was getting at.

"No," he said with a smile. "No it is not. I think you know who it is."

"I am happy for you, Eragon," I said, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in for a hug.

"Well," he sighed, "we shall see what happens. Saphira and I are leaving, perhaps forever. She and Fírnen will remain here. I do not know what will become of us."

"It will work itself out," I said as reassuringly as I could. "As with me and Murtagh; I have to believe that we will be reunited one day. If I don't believe, then I have nothing to keep me going. Every day is a struggle, and it will continue to be so until we are together once again."

He gazed at me for a long moment, a certain light in his eyes. "You are so strong, Tabatha," he said fondly. "I don't know how you do it."

"With the knowledge that I have faced far worse before," I replied. "As will you." I paused for a moment, and then continued, "And what of Saphira? It has not escaped my notice how she and Fírnen act around one another."

"She does not want to leave him, understandably, but she has accepted that we must." He looked away, out over the gardens and the bubbling fountain beneath us. I followed his gaze as a light breeze stirred a few errant hairs around my face.

"Our duty calls us away," I said softly, "no matter how much our hearts may be yearning for something entirely different. I wish things could be different; gods, how I wish for that. Maybe one day... but not today." We stayed silently standing next to one another for a long time, but then I pushed away from the railing and said, "Come on, you'd better tell Katrina and Roran what your plans are. You can't put it off til the last minute."

"Yes, yes," he sighed in mock indignation. "Let's get this over with."

 

* * *

 

As I had suspected, Roran and Katrina did not take it well. I decided not to stick around while Eragon told them, determining that this was a family matter between the three of them. Eragon told me later that it had taken a lot of convincing on his part, but he'd finally managed to do it. They weren't happy, that much was obvious, but they'd reached a certain point of understanding. On top of that, they were going to go on a tour of Alagaësia while Eragon got the last of his affairs in order.

He would go west first, to speak with the Herndall Council of Garzhvog's village. He wished to ask them if they would like to enter in to the pact which would enable their kind to become Dragon Riders. I didn't know how this conversation would go, and I was worried about him, but Eragon assured me there was nothing to fear. They would either accept, or reject, and then he would be on his way to Vroengard to retrieve the dragon eggs and the few Eldunarí that had stayed behind to protect them. As well as a strange dragon-machine hybrid by the name of Cuaroc, who was the protector of the eggs and the Eldunarí.

On the day of our departure from Ilirea, everyone who would be making the journey, or who wished to say goodbye, gathered in the quadrangle. Amera and I swooped down from the dragon hold, where the others were already gathered. We would stay in Ilirea until such time that Eragon returned from Vroengard and made his way to Ellesméra. He did not need our help, and there were a few last minute things I wished to take care of before we journeyed east.

Roran stood next to Fírnen's green body, arms crossed over his burly chest as he surveyed the quadrangle. He was ever the watchful warrior. Katrina stood next to him, cradling Ismira in her arms. Nasuada was there as well, along with Elva and Angela the witch.

"Are we just about ready?" I asked of Roran when I walked over to him.

"It would seem so," he grumbled. Eragon and Nasuada were saying their final goodbyes. They embraced warmly, and then he drew away to jump into Saphira's saddle. Arya walked over to Fírnen and prepared to help Roran and Katrina onto his back.

"I will join you in Ellesméra in about a week," I assured them with a warm smile. "Safe journey to you all."

"And to you," Arya replied with a nod of her head. They all squished onto Fírnen's back, and were gone just like that. As the great emerald dragon disappeared over the roofs of the city, I suddenly began to feel like this was all really happening.

Eragon came over to me then. "You're sure you don't want to come with me to Vroengard?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm sure," I replied. "I have a few things I want to put in order before our journey. We will see you when you reach Ellesméra; Amera and I will leave here in a few days to meet up with Roran and Katrina."

"Very well," he conceded.

"Be safe, Eragon. It would be just like you to come all this way just to die in some freak accident."

 _I will watch out for him,_ Saphira assured me with a snort. _Any rogue Snalgl_ _í_ _will have to get through me first._ I gave her a wry smile and then embraced Eragon one last time before he left. He waved goodbye to those still gathered in the quadrangle, and then they were gone as well. I felt strangely hollow in the wake of their absence, but I quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

 _I will meet you in the dragon hold tomorrow morning, Amera_ , I said to her, stroking her warm snout.

 _Very well, little one. Tell me how it goes._ She unfurled her wings and then leapt into the air, off to do whatever she wanted. At almost a year old, she was big enough that I did not fear her being on her own. Suddenly, I noticed Nasuada beckoning me over to her side.

"When you return," she said quietly, "we will discuss in more detail the role you are to take up on my council."

"Yes, my lady," I said, bowing my head slightly. She offered me a small smile, and then turned back towards the citadel, surrounded almost immediately by her Nighthawks. I followed behind them into the citadel, but then branched off as she retired to her private offices. As for me, I hurried up a set of stairs to the east wing and to my mother's rooms.

She was alone when I got there, working on a piece of needlework as she sat by the window. At my arrival, she looked up and her face lit up with a smile. "Tabatha," she said happily, putting her project down in her lap, "I had thought you were gone already."

"Not yet," I assured her, taking a seat across from where she sat. "I wanted to make sure you were doing alright first."

"I am," she said with a smile. "Braeden and your uncle have been taking good care of me, as well as that elf-woman. What is her name?"

"Thëa," I told her.

"Yes, Thëa, she is most kind. Very few of my memories have returned to me, but..." She let the thought fade away into silence, her gaze going vacant as she stared at the floor. I reached over and took up her hand, squeezing it as tightly as I dared.

"Perhaps it is better this way," I whispered. Her violet eyes shifted up to me, and she nodded slowly.

"Yes, perhaps." She was silent another moment or two, and then she heaved a sigh. "Well, I am just glad you're here, and that you've decided to stay," she said.

"I could not leave, Mother," I assured her. "Not after everything that's happened. We have finally been reunited, and I will make sure nothing bad ever happens to you again."

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around? The mother looks out for her children? How lucky I am, to have a daughter to care for me." I released her hand and sat back in the chair.

"I thought maybe I would sit and talk with you for a while," I began slowly. "We haven't really had a chance to talk, just the two of us, since I found you. Perhaps we can take this time to get to know one another a little better."

"I would like that very much," she replied.

 

* * *

 

As night fell, I was still talking, telling her every detail of my life I could recall off the top of my head. She laughed at the little anecdotes I shared of my childhood, growing up with Eragon, Roran, and my cousins in Carvahall. And when I spoke of my relationship with my aunt, I could tell she was saddened that she had not been able to fill her role as my mother.

"Aunt Elain was very good to me," I assured her. "She treated me like her own child."

"I am grateful for that," she said sadly, twiddling her fingers in her lap. "Tell me about this young man, Eragon."

"He's been my best friend for as long as I can remember," I replied. "But we were never together, not like that anyways."

"Well, was there anyone? I cannot believe that you, my beautiful daughter, have gone almost eighteen years without a young man to call your own." She was smiling fondly, but when she noticed how I fell silent and averted my gaze, her smile was replaced by a look of concern. "Tabatha?" she questioned. "What is it?"

"There was a young man," I said quietly, finally looking her in the eye. "But it is a very complicated story."

"With my own misgivings, when it comes to men, as evidence, I would hope you realize I could never judge you in that matter," she said reassuringly. My heart was gladdened by that, and I smirked a little bit. "Tell me how you met."

"It was after Eragon and I left Carvahall," I explained. "We were in Dras-Leona, hunting down the creatures that killed Eragon's uncle, and burned his farm. They followed us away from the city, and attacked us in the middle of the night. Brom was gravely injured, but we were saved by this young man. He healed Brom to the best of his ability, though it was too late for him. Then he traveled with us to the Varden, until we were separated."

"What is his name?"

I drew in my breath, and looked at her warily. "His name is Murtagh," I said quietly. "And he is a Rider, like me." I heard my mother gasp quietly, and her eyes were wide in shock.

"I know that name..." she muttered.

"His father was Morzan," I explained, seeing no point in trying to hide the details about the man I loved.

Her eyes widened even further, and I saw her fingers begin to tremble. "A monster," my mother whispered.

"He is not like that at all, Mother," I assured her. "He has made mistakes, of course, as we all have, but he is not his father. He and Eragon are half-brothers, as it turns out; they share the same mother."

"Selena," she whispered, and I noticed her face soften a bit. "We were young girls together once. How long ago that seems now... What happened to her?"

"She died shortly after Eragon was born, but she was able to leave him in the care of his uncle. Brom watched over the both of us; he kept our secrets safe."

My mother seemed to process all of this information slowly, keeping her eyes downcast and her hands clasped together. Finally, she said, "And your young man, Murtagh, where is he now?"

"He and his dragon have left this place," I said sadly. "They were enslaved to the king against their will, and he made them do terrible things. The guilt and the grief that they carry is heavy. And they believe some time alone will help to heal the wounds Galbatorix dealt them." At the mention of the torture Murtagh and Thorn had suffered, I saw my mother's eyes soften slightly. After all, she knew better than almost anyone what that was like.

"I am sorry," she said.

"Amera and I have come to terms with it. I will wait for him, no matter how long it takes. Though I cannot say the same for Amera," I laughed. "Dragons do not mate for life, she tells me. And who knows how long it will be before we see them again?"

"She sounds like a magnificent creature," Mother said quietly. "I have glimpsed her, and the other dragons, flying over the city from time to time."

"I know she would take you flying sometime, if you wished."

She smiled slightly and let out a little chuckle. "I don't know if I'm quite ready for that yet."

"That's the beauty of it," I said reassuringly, "we have the time now. Whatever may come, Amera and I will be here for you."

"Thank you, Tabatha," she said.

"It's getting late," I said, standing from the chair and stretching my sore muscles. "I'll let you get some rest." She thanked me again, and I embraced her quickly before heading to my own room. I was glad to have been able to share some details about my life with her. I was beginning to feel like we were drawing closer to having the relationship that mother and daughter should, though I knew there was still a long way for us to go.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Amera was awake and waiting for me in her cave. _Ready to go?_ she asked, a hint of excitement in her voice.

 _Yes, let's head out._ I strapped her saddle on securely, and then climbed up her leg to sit upon the saddle between the hollow of her shoulder blades. Once I was safely in place, she unfurled her wings and leapt off the landing, beating her wings steadily to raise us up above the spires. We left the city behind, the light of the rising sun hitting our backs as we headed west. I could see the forest laid out before us, and we were overtop of it in a matter of a few minutes.

Amera folded her wings and dropped down into the trees, finding that the wards around the forest were now gone. They must have dissipated after my father's death. I directed her to the best of my ability, relying on my memories of this place from so long ago. Finally, we reached the small hut tucked between the two giant oak trees.

She landed on the ground with a soft thud, and I heard a few birds awaken from their slumber with shouts of indignation at our intrusion. I leapt down out of the saddle, and made my way towards the hut. But before I could get there, the person I was searching for emerged from within.

"Asron," I said quietly, a smile upon my face. He looked at me and Amera with bewilderment, as if he wasn't sure if this was a dream.

"Tabatha," he finally sighed, giving me a wide, toothy grin. "You have returned! I knew you could do it!" His joy was contagious, and I felt a laugh bubble from within my chest. I ran over to the old man, and could not help myself when I wrapped him in a hug. He returned it in earnest, and Amera let out a little growl of happiness.

"It is good to see you again, Asron," I said, stepping away from him.

"I heard that ruckus you all were making a few months ago," he replied. "I wondered if it was safe to come out of this blasted forest. It looks like Ashola was right about you two." He gave us both an appraising look. "Bah! Where are my manners? Come in, come in. Well, not you Amera, I'm afraid you'll tear the house down." She snorted at him in amusement.

 _I shall be listening all the same,_ she replied. I followed the old man into his hut, and was happy to find it very much as I'd last seen it. At least he had not been touched by the war.

He cleared the table of some scrolls, and then invited me to take a seat, much as he had the first night I'd met him. "I want you to tell me everything," he said as he took a seat across from me. And so I did. I filled him in on everything that had happened—omitting the more personal details—since we had left him almost eight months ago. He was glad to hear that the enchanted cloak had aided me greatly in my journey, and was even happier when I told him of how we'd defeated my father.

"There's more," I said after explaining the final battle in Urû'baen. "Eragon found a whole cache of dragon eggs and Eldunarí on Vroengard. The Riders will be rebuilt, and will return." I could hardly contain my excitement at telling him, and I was not disappointed by the look on his face. His mouth hung agape, and tears came to his rheumy blue eyes.

"It is more than I could have dreamed," he whispered, wiping hastily at the tears. "Where will he raise them? Back on Vroengard?"

"Unfortunately, the island is uninhabitable, and there is not a suitable place within Alagaësia's borders," I explained. "He and Saphira will take the eggs and raise the dragons far from here, in the uncharted east. Two of the eggs will stay here, until they hatch for their Riders, and then I will take dragon and Rider on to wherever they will be trained."

"You will not accompany Eragon on this journey?"

"There are things here that require mine and Amera's attention," I said. "But I wondered... I wondered if you would like to accompany Eragon to the east. He could use your help in training the Riders." The old man's eyes lit up from an inner fire, and joy quickly spread across his face.

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Tabatha Adelaidsdaughter."


	70. Journey's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all you lovely people! Here is the next installment for you. Only 1 chapter and an epilogue left! Ah! I'm getting excited. :-D Hope you all enjoy!

It took Asron nearly three days to gather all the things he wished to take with him to the east. I'd managed to buy a horsecart from one of the local merchants, and when I came to the forest on the third day to fetch Asron, he was loading everything into the back of the cart. Praetorian stood next to the cart, munching on some grass idly.

"Nearly finished?" I asked him. He shot me a toothy grin as he threw a brown sack on top of the ever-growing pile.

"Just about," he assured me. "I daresay, I've not been this excited about... well, anything in the last hundred or so years. How I've longed to leave this accursed forest, and now the day has finally arrived!" He was practically shaking with excitement, and I had to smile at the old man's enthusiasm.

With my help, his task was finished within the hour. There were a few things left inside his hut, but nothing of great importance; mostly clothes and dishes. The old man stood in front of his ramshackle cottage, the place he'd called home for the last hundred years, and I glimpsed a bit of wistfulness in his eyes. He was a bit eccentric, to be sure, but I could tell that a part of him would miss this place.

Asron heaved a sigh and turned away from the hut. "Right," he exclaimed, his voice raspy, "let's get on with it." I offered him a small smile and then helped him up into the seat of the cart, handing him the reins so he could guide Praetorian.

"I take it you know the way to Ellesméra?" I asked him.

"Like the back of my own hand." That light of excitement had returned to his eyes.

"Then Amera and I will join you in two day's time, and escort you the rest of the way." He nodded in agreement, and then flicked the reins lightly. Praetorian lumbered forward slowly, pulling the cart with relative ease. It was a shame to see such a fine war horse pulling a cart, but he would offer Asron companionship in the years to come. For that, I was grateful. Asron threw a wave over his shoulder, grinning from ear to ear, and then the cart disappeared around a bend in the path, the only sign they'd been there the tracks gouged into the earth.

I headed the opposite way, back towards the citadel. Amera would still be out hunting, preparing for our journey, and I had some last minute packing to do. My heart beat wildly in my chest from nervousness. This was all really happening. I just hoped I was ready for it.

 

* * *

 

_Y_ _ou are far too quiet today._ Amera's voice cut through my thoughts and brought me back to the present. We were high up above the world, one of my favorite places to be. She glided along a thermal that carried us just under the clouds, her wings spread wide to catch the wind.

_I'm just thinking,_ I replied, scanning the ground far below for any sign of Asron. We'd left the citadel that morning, and I thought we would have run into him by now. He must have been able to get farther than I thought.

_And that is my concern,_ Amera quipped back in that cheeky way she had. _Share your burdens with me, Tabatha. I am a lot stronger than you, after all._

_I am worried about Eragon and Saphira, and the pressure they're placing on themselves._

_Mmm,_ Amera hummed beneath me. _You think them not prepared for what lies ahead?_

_No, no, that isn't it,_ I replied hastily. _I think there are no two better suited to the task of rebuilding the Riders. But I worry that Eragon is keeping his doubts and fears hidden. I want to help them, in whatever way I can, while still maintaining the duties and obligations I have here. But if he doesn't share those things with me, how can I know what to do or say?_

_You would need to speak with him about it, but I worry that pressuring him to open up may not have the desired effect._

_What do you mean, Amera?_ I asked her.

I could feel her groan slightly as she weighed her response. _If you push him too hard, too fast, he may not say anything at all. And I know you do not wish for him to leave with things unsettled between you two._

_No,_ I replied, _I do not. But I fear I may be running out of time._

Amera's body suddenly stiffened beneath me. _I have caught the old one's scent. He is somewhere nearby._

_Let's get down there and find him._ She dropped her wings slightly so we would descend slowly, and my eyes scanned the ground beneath us. Finally, I found a speck wading in the high grasses of Spring on the plains. Amera dropped down to where we were flying just above him, and I reached out my consciousness. _Asron,_ I said, _we are here._

He turned to look up at us and waved, though he did not offer any response. Praetorian moved at a steady, yet brisk, pace, and when I raised my eyes to the horizon, I could see a green haze that could only be the forest of Du Weldenvarden.

 

* * *

 

Arya and Fírnen were there to greet us when we arrived in Ellesméra a day later. "Kvetha, Asron Shur'tugal," she said upon meeting us, placing a hand over her chest and bowing. Even though she was the queen of the elves, Asron had been a Rider longer than she'd been alive. Fírnen bowed his head in respect as well, and I noticed a glimmer of tears in Asron's eyes. I couldn't imagine what this must be like for him, after so many years alone and believing his order to be extinguished.

"Kvetha eom ono myös," Asron muttered back to them, "Arya Dröttning, Fírnen." I watched as Amera walked over to Fírnen, sniffing at him with interest. They were still unsure of one another, but there would be time for familiarization later.

"How are Katrina and Roran, and the babe?" I asked Arya over Asron's shoulder.

"They are well," she replied, "and resting in Tialdarí Hall. I would be honored to escort you there." This last part she directed at Asron, to which he bounded forward a few steps to follow behind her long strides. I laughed at his enthusiastic gait, and then turned when Amera called to me.

_Fírnen wishes to show me around the city,_ she said, blinking her huge silver eyes slowly.

_Enjoy yourselves,_ I told her, _but be sure you're back by nightfall. I expect Eragon and Saphira to return this evening, and then there will be a ceremony._

_We will be back by then,_ she assured me. The two dragons flew up above the trees and into the sunlight, where I could no longer see them. And then I was left alone in a strange city, free to explore as I wished. Others may have been nervous in a similar situation, but I felt a smile come to my face as I headed down the forest path. I knew there was no danger in this place, and I actually preferred to be on my own right now. It was easier for me to dissect the many thoughts and feelings that were raging in my mind.

And so I walked, not really knowing where I was going, but not really caring either. This place was a wonder, with its buildings that seemed to grow out of the very trees themselves, and the magic that I could feel imbued into every part of the life its inhabitants lived. And underlying everything, I could hear a constant stream of music. It was barely noticeable at first, but the longer I lingered, the louder it became. Their voices were beautiful; as clear as bells and with a constant, unwavering tone. I didn't understand most of the words they spoke, as it was all in the ancient language and I was still in the early stages of learning its meaning. But that didn't seem to matter. I could feel what they were singing, more than I could understand it. The music seeped down into my very soul, and it felt as though my steps were lighter where they trod across the forest floor.

As I passed by the many buildings and structures, I saw the elves going about the tasks of their daily lives, which was in odd contrast to what I was familiar with. The only interactions I'd ever had with elves were in the context of war. And now that peace reigned over the land, I found I was fascinated by them. A woman sat at a wooden contraption which looked like a loom, but she did not move the various pieces with her hands. Rather, she sang a soft, lilting song in the ancient language, and the material she worked with seemed to move on its own.

I got lost in the wonders all around me, so much so that I didn't notice when afternoon began to give way to evening. A large hall rose up before me, and then I saw a figure running out of it. It was Roran, and when he caught sight of me a smile broke across his face.

"Tabby!" he called, waving a burly arm high up over his head. "They tell me Eragon has arrived." Katrina appeared behind him, carrying a very vocal Ismira in her arms.

"Well," I exclaimed, "let's go and meet them, shall we?"

 

* * *

 

Beyond the trees, there was only the darkness of night. But here, in the midst of joyous celebration, there was only light. The three dragons sat together at the end of the table, looking resplendent in the firelight. All around, those who were gathered laughed and ate and drank merrily. Eragon sat to my right, and to his right sat Arya. The three of us, the next generation of Riders, all together for what might have been the last time.

The wine and faelnirv flowed freely, and I found myself partaking more than I normally would have. Soon after the meal concluded, two elf women stood at the opposite end of the table, and removed their robes so that they stood before us stark naked. A tattoo of a great dragon wound its way seamlessly over their two bodies, flowing and winding across their skin like water. The two of them began to sing in beautiful harmony, up and down and then back again, their notes ringing in a melancholy tune. And as they sang, the tattoo began to ripple and weave its way away from them, until it floated in the air over the length of the table.

Beside me, Eragon eyes were closed, and he mouthed words in the ancient language silently. I closed my eyes as well, joining my energy to the stream that raged all around us. All of the Eldunarí, and each dragon, and every elf added their energies into crafting the spell Eragon was weaving. The air seemed to shimmer all around us with the energy of all who were involved in this spell. And when I opened my eyes, the sky was alight with colors. Purples, greens, blues, reds, yellows, and every shade in between floated before my Sight, the auras of everyone around me creating a stunning display. It was the most beautiful thing I'd seen in all my life.

When the spell was done, the tattoo dragon slunk back to the two elf-women, spiraling around them until it was once again motionless. It was done; Eragon had amended the pact between the dragons and Riders to include the Urgals and the dwarves. A new era of unity and peace was dawning upon Alagaësia, and I couldn't believe that I got to be a part of it.

As the ceremony ended, those gathered at the table returned to their merry-making, singing and laughing with one another. Eragon, for his part, excused himself from the table and walked a little ways into the surrounding woods.

_I'll be back, Amera,_ I said to her from across the table. She let out a slight roar in response, startling many of the elves gathered at that end of the table. I smiled at her and then followed in Eragon's footsteps, into the dark night.

As I walked, I saw the trees open up in front of me, and a clearing that led to a sheer cliff-face just beyond that. Stooped on the root of an enormous tree at the edge of the woods, was what looked to be an old man. I could only see the back of him, but it looked as though a strip of cloth covered his eyes, like he was blind. And next to him, stood Eragon.

"Sloan," Eragon said quietly, and I had to catch myself from gasping aloud. What was Sloan doing here? He looked much thinner than the last time I'd seen him, so long ago. And there was more hatefulness in his voice than there ever had been before.

"Why have you brought them here?" he asked bitterly, practically spitting out the words in his ire. "She sits over there, and I can hear her laughter. This is torture. Your spell keeps me from going near her!" Eragon said a few words quietly, and then Sloan snapped at him to go away, leave him in peace. But then, I witnessed Eragon kneel down in front of the old man, quite startling him. He spoke a few words in the ancient language, and then moved his hands away from Sloan's eyes.

"Go," he said softly, "and look at your daughter, and granddaughter. You still will not be able to speak to them, but at least you can now see them with your own eyes." Sloan struggled up off the tree root, using a rough-hewn branch as support. He lumbered over to another tree, and leaned up against it. He could just glimpse through trunks and branches the sight of his only daughter, laughing happily next to her husband and holding her baby girl.

"Thank you," I heard Sloan whisper, never taking his eyes off the sight before him. Eragon said not another word, but turned and walked toward the edge of the cliff. When he reached the edge, he sat down upon it, dangling his legs over the side. I stole my way quietly across the trodden grass and stopped just behind him.

"May I join you?" I asked. He did not seem surprised at my arrival, and invited me to sit with a gesture of his hand. I sat myself precariously upon the edge of the cliff, scooting closer to Eragon's side.

"You should return to the party," he said, not unkindly. "There's no point in you joining me in my melancholy."

"I would offer some comfort, if you'll allow me to," I replied. "If you need someone to listen, you know I'm right here." I could feel the tension radiating off of him, but he remained stubbornly silent. "Come now, Eragon," I prompted him further, "we don't have much time left with one another. Don't leave me wondering if there was anything I could have done to ease your hurt."

"I don't know why," he began softly, "but I thought this would not be as difficult as it's turned out to be. I thought it would be a simple matter of Saphira and I taking the eggs and the Eldunarí and finding a new home for us all, to rebuild everything that was taken from us. But it has turned out to be much different. I'm just now beginning to realize what it truly means to leave everything and everyone I've ever known behind."

"You speak as though you will never return," I said, swallowing the lump in my throat. I was aware of Angela's prophecy, but I'd secretly held on to the hope that maybe Eragon could defy his fate somehow.

"That's because I'm not sure we ever will, Tabby." I had to bite down on my lip to keep from having an outburst. It had been one of my worries, that this would happen. "There's so much ahead of us," he continued, still staring out into the vast space before us. "It's not just finding a place to raise the wild dragons, but we must also build an entire city that will house future generations of Riders to come, long after Saphira and I are gone. And when the first of the new generation come to join us, wherever we may be, we will have to dedicate many hours to teaching them. It will be years before the Riders are sizeable enough to return to their duties of protecting Alagaësia. But until then..."

"I understand, Eragon," I chimed in. "As it stands right now, you are the only Rider available to train the new ones. Arya has her duties as queen here in Ellesméra, I need to stay behind to care for my mother, and Murtagh and Thorn have to find their own way in this world before they can even think about coming back. There's an enormous amount of responsibility being put on you and Saphira right now... but that does not mean you are alone." He looked over at me finally, and I could see the desolation in his eyes. "Amera and I will join you when we can; after I am sure that my mother is safe and well taken care of. And in the meantime, we will see you when we bring the new Riders to you."

"I know," he said, "but that does not make this any easier."

"I don't mean this to sound insensitive, but have you thought about how difficult it will be for the rest of us as well?" He cocked an eyebrow at me quizzically. "Eragon," I exclaimed, "you are my best friend, and you are going away for an indefinite amount of time. Before anything to do with dragons happened to us, we had not spent a day apart for nearly ten years. Every single Dragon Rider that there is in this world is going to be separated from the others; isolated and on their own. Don't you think we are having a hard time dealing with this too?"

He averted his gaze, looking out over the forest beneath us and then up to the countless stars in the sky. "I... Well, it seems I've been quite wrapped up in myself, haven't I?" I smirked a bit at that, but I didn't agree with him.

"We all get a little wrapped up in ourselves sometimes," I quipped back. "I just want you to understand that you don't have to be alone, Eragon. There will come a time, and it may be many years from now, but we will all of us be together again."

He smiled over at me, and took my hand where it rested on the ground next to me. "I surely hope you're right, Tabatha." We sat together like that for a very long time, just the two of us in our own thoughts. And then we began to reminisce, about days long gone by.

When we were children, we would play at being Dragon Riders. And now, we both were Riders for real. How funny, dreams are. Neither of us ever thought it would happen, but our wildest dreams came true. And somehow, we'd overcome every adversity and obstacle that had been thrown our way. It had been a long, hard road to get here, and there was much more work yet to be done, but I knew that we could do it. We may not have been at each other's sides, but we would always be working together to make Alagaësia a better, safer place for all who lived here.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, our group departed Ellesméra. The elven spellcasters that had been caring for the Eldunarí all these months had decided to go with Eragon and Saphira to the east, which he was very grateful for, as was I. At least they would not be totally alone. Katrina and Roran and the baby came along as well, and so did Arya and Fírnen. We would accompany those that were leaving as far as Hedarth, where the Edda and the Az-Ragni combined into one river.

On the morning of our departure from Ellesméra, we all took up our various mounts. Some of the merriment from our time here still lingered, but there was a sense of melancholy underlying all of it. We all knew what was coming eventually, but none of us wished to give voice to it just yet.

And so, we left the capital city of the elves behind. Eragon, Arya, and I flew upon our dragons, while the other elves and Asron journeyed upon horses, leading the ponies that carried the supplies they would need for their journey. We kept up a good pace for a day and a half, resting only for supper and a few hours of sleep, and then on to the elvish city of Sílthrim. There, on the banks of Ardwen Lake, we boarded a white ship that would bear us to Hedarth, called _Talíta._ She was a fine vessel, fit to carry all of us and our horses in comfort. It took the magic of the elves to move Asron's cart into the cargo hold, but it fit nicely once it was down there. The horses were settled in the livestock pen, and then we were on our way.

The dragons flew overhead of us, reveling in the clear, open air. For two days, we floated down the Gaena River at a leisurely pace, until at last, the forest disappeared and opened up to the flatland beyond. We quickly came to Eldor Lake, and made one final replenish of the supplies in the elvish city of Ceris. Once we had left Ceris behind us, all that was left was Hedarth, and then they would be on their way to the unknown lands beyond.

The closer we drew to the dwarves' trading post, the more nervous I became. The butterflies in my stomach seemed to constantly be fluttering about, and many times I found myself becoming sick over the side of the ship, unsettled by a combination of my nerves and the rocking of the wide river's waves. Amera comforted me as best she could, but I spent much of this time in solitude. I didn't know if I could handle this.

Finally, the dwarvish city appeared before us. And with the sight of the city, we were also greeted by a great host of dwarves, foremost among them their king, Orik. He and Eragon greeted one another jovially, and I'm not sure how, but he convinced Eragon to stay for a magnificent feast. There was more food than I'd ever seen in my entire life, but I found I did not have much of an appetite.

_Are you sure you're alright, Tabby?_ Amera asked me for what seemed like the thousandth time.

_Yes, Amera,_ I assured her with a sigh, _I just don't feel up to eating much of anything. I think my stomach is still upset from all that time we spent on the ship. I'll just sit here and drink my spiced wine; don't worry about me._

_Hmm,_ she groaned in a dissatisfied tone. _Very well, but tell me if you need anything._

_You'll be the first,_ I quipped back, and then she withdrew contact to join in feasting upon a huge roast boar with the other two dragons. I sat away from the group, just surveying everything quietly. Eragon's mood seemed to have lifted, and I was glad of that. He and Arya were getting to spend some time together before his departure, which I was also glad of. I hoped that would help to make it easier on him, when they finally did depart.

 

* * *

 

It took him two days, but Eragon finally managed to convince Orik that he could not stay any longer. I thought that maybe the dwarf king was under the impression that he could convince them to stay, but it was in vain. It was far too late for that.

The sun had just risen over the flatlands beyond the dwarvish city, bathing the earth in a warm orange glow. I stood upon the banks of the river by myself, watching the beauty unfold before me. I'd already said my goodbyes to Asron, assuring him that we would meet again soon, but I was putting off saying goodbye to Eragon as long as I could. I wasn't sure how much my heart could handle. Soon, I heard the sounds of people stirring behind me. And then, a hand set upon my shoulder.

I turned, and looked up at Eragon where he stood in front of me. "It's almost time," he said quietly, and I looked over his shoulder to see the elves gathering their things and leading the horses back onto the ship. "Will you stay with me as far as the first bend?" I looked deeply into his dark brown eyes, unsure of what I wanted to say.

"No," I finally whispered, "I think it will be best if we part here. Besides, I'm sure Arya wishes to say her goodbyes in private." His mouth turned up at the corner in a little half-smile, and I saw tears brimming in his eyes.

"There are so many things I wish to say to you, Tabatha," he said. "But where to begin?"

Through the tears that were now flowing down my face, I found myself letting out a small laugh. "I do not know," I admitted. "This doesn't seem real yet. After all we have been through together, after all we have done, I can't believe it's over."

"For now," he reminded me. "Whatever fate decides, I have faith that it will see us together again one day."

"That's more like it," I said, giving him a half-hearted punch on the arm, the way I used to before we were forced to grow up. I looked over his shoulder, and saw Saphira walking closer to us, with Amera at her side.

_Tabatha,_ she said, her familiar consciousness bringing me some small measure of comfort.

_You two take care of each other,_ I said to both of them, a little more forcefully than I had intended. But I needed them to understand just how much I cared about them. _I won't be there to watch your back anymore, Eragon. You'll have to rely on each other. Promise me you'll keep him from making any rash decisions, Saphira?_

_I promise, Tabatha,_ she said in an amused tone. And Eragon just smiled at me fondly. _You and Amera must look after one another as well. It will be a difficult road that we all walk._

_We will,_ I assured her. Then, I walked around Eragon and stood in front of Saphira, staring into her great, sapphire eyes. She leaned her head down so that I could wrap my arms around her in a hug. As I felt the warmth radiating off her, I felt myself begin to cry even harder than before. Eragon stepped up behind me and turned me around, wrapping me in an embrace as tightly as he could.

"Oh, Tabatha," he said quietly, one hand on the back of my head and the other wrapped around my shoulders. I could feel him shaking, and I knew he was crying as well. "We are two hearts joined together, and neither distance nor the passage of time can truly separate us. I will carry you with me, to wherever this journey takes us, as I hope you will do the same."

"Of course, Eragon," I whispered. Then, I pulled away, wiping the tears from my face and looking up at him with as much of a smile as I could muster. "I would offer you and Saphira a blessing, in the language of my people." He nodded slowly and smiled. In the weeks leading up to our departure, I'd gone to my mother and asked her to teach me whatever she knew about the language of the Priestesses. And while her memory was still shrouded, she was able to recite a few prayers and blessings she'd learned as a small girl. The one I'd chosen to share with Eragon and Saphira was burned into my memory.

_We would be honored,_ Saphira added.

And so, tapping into the wellspring of my power and invoking the Name of the Goddess, I bestowed upon them a blessing in the language of the Priestesses. "Beanna mé tú le grá don bhóthar a théann tú, Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira Bjartskular. Go raibh tú seol chuig na réimsí go dtí seo de fhortún; is féidir leat grá agus sonas a thabhairt do gach go gcomhlíonann tú; agus d'fhéadfadh sé riamh a is gá duit misfhortún a banish; is féidir leat teacht cineáltas cibé áit a théann tú. Beidh ndán di aoibh gháire ar do thuras, agus guím a thugann Ashola dúinn le chéile arís lá amháin. Beannachtaí ar tú araon."

In the old tongue of the Priestesses, it means this: "I bless you with love for the road that you go, Eragon Shadeslayer, Saphira Bjartskular. May you sail to the far fields of fortune; may you bring love and happiness to all that you meet; may you never need to banish misfortune; and may you find kindness wherever you go. Fate will smile upon your journey, and I pray that Ashola brings us together again one day. Blessings upon you both. "

The magic of the Priestesses flowed through me, and cast a shimmer upon the air around them both. Saphira and Amera touched their snouts to one another, and I wrapped Eragon in one last embrace.

"Safe travels," I whispered through my tears.

"And to you as well," he replied. Then he pulled away, gave me one last smile and a kiss upon my forehead, and then he was gone. He boarded the ship behind Arya, and the gangplank was raised. Saphira vaulted into the sky alongside Fírnen, and the two dragons flew over the ship as they sailed down the Edda River. A few yards away from me, Roran and Katrina stood upon the banks of the river. He let out a mournful cry, releasing his sorrow in a wordless cry of anguish. The sound brought a pang to my chest, for I knew exactly how he felt.

With pain in my heart, I watched the _Talíta_ sail slowly down the river. Just before she reached the first bend, Fírnen swept down out of the air and snatched Arya off the deck of the ship. The green dragon and his Rider returned to where we stood upon the banks, and all of us watched as the last trace of our friends disappeared into the unknown.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for now! Please review and tell me what you think!
> 
> Note: The language Tabatha is speaking during her blessing is Gaelic, mostly because I was too lazy and didn't have enough time to create my own language.


	71. Until We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone! This is technically the last chapter, but there will be an Epilogue after this one, which will come out on Monday. I hope you all enjoy!

After Eragon and Saphira were gone, I rejoined the others where they stood upon the bank. Katrina gave me a half embrace with one arm, as the other was occupied holding Ismira. And then Roran embraced me as well. We didn't say anything; we didn't have to. Arya looked at me, and we shared a look of sympathy between us. Both of us knew how much Eragon meant to the other, and surprisingly, I found that my jealousy of her was gone completely.

"What now?" Katrina finally asked, looking up at Roran where he had his arm around her shoulder.

"We continue on," he replied, still staring down the river, as though they might reappear at any moment. "As we always have. We will return to Ilirea, and then we'll take the villagers back to Palancar Valley; start over new."

"I wish you all well," Arya said to them. "Fírnen and I must return to Ellesméra, but I am sure we will meet again."

"And what about you, Tabby?" Katrina asked me. I looked between the three of them, weighing my answer.

"I will go with you to Carvahall," I finally said. "We'll do what we can to help you rebuild, and then return to Ilirea to begin our duties as dragon and Rider."

"Your help will be much appreciated," Roran said with a smile, looking between Amera and me.

"Well then," Katrina said, "shall we?" I nodded quickly and then turned to Arya.

"Safe travels to you both," I said, extending a hand towards her. She took it without hesitation, and clasped my forearm tightly.

"We will keep in contact," she said. "As soon as an egg hatches, we will come to you so you may ferry them to Eragon." I nodded sharply, and then turned to my own dragon as she turned to hers.

Roran was already helping Katrina up into Amera's saddle, and then he was quickly up behind her. I turned and waved to Arya and Fírnen one last time, and then they were gone as well. The dwarf host was already packing up to make their journey back to Farthen Dûr. Soon, this place would be as empty as it was only a few days ago, without a trace of the heartache that had just happened.

_Let us leave this place, Tabatha,_ Amera said somberly as I looked around one last time.

_Yes, let's get going. It's a long flight back to Ilirea._ I climbed up her foreleg and swung into the saddle in front of Katrina and the baby. For the whole of our flight, they were utterly silent, but I did not blame them. It would take us all a long time to come to terms with their absence.

 

* * *

 

Evening fell before Ilirea came into our sights, its many lights shining like a beacon that called us back home. Amera landed swiftly in the quadrangle, trying to remain as quiet as possible. I helped Katrina by taking Ismira in my arms and cradling her while her mother got down from the saddle. By some miracle, the girl was asleep, though she hadn't been earlier this afternoon when she was screaming in my ear. Katrina thanked me, as did Roran.

"When will you leave?" I asked him as I handed Ismira back to her mother.

"On the morrow, I think," he replied. "We have stayed here too long as it is. It's time to get back to our lives, though they'll never be what they once were."

"I think that is wise," I said, smiling at the two of them. We wished each other a good night, and then the little family departed for the Great Hall to get some much needed rest. As for me, I was wide awake without a thought of sleep.

_I don't know how you are not exhausted, but I am,_ Amera complained.

_Well, I'm not the one who flew across almost the whole country today,_ I teased. _Go to the dragon hold, Amera, and sleep. We will depart in the morning._

_Try to get some rest yourself,_ she said in an admonishing tone. With that, she unfurled her wings once more and headed towards her cave. It would be lonely now, with Saphira and Fírnen gone.

After her purple form disappeared into the darkness of the dragon hold, I began walking slowly towards the citadel. I did not want to sleep, nor did I want to be alone. I found myself spending far too much time in my own head lately, and I needed some company. It was a long shot, but I made my way to my mother's rooms. Perhaps she would still be up at this late hour.

When I knocked lightly on her door, I didn't hear any response. So, very slowly, I inched the door open. The parlor was completely dark, but I could just glimpse the flicker of flames underneath the door that led to her bedchamber. After hesitating a moment, I heard the scrape of a page turning, so I headed to her bedchamber door and knocked again.

"Tabatha?" she called from the other side. I opened the door to find her sitting next to the fireplace, a knitted blanket thrown over her lap and an open book resting upon it.

"Hello, Mother," I said quietly, shutting the door behind me and joining her in the chair opposite hers. She smiled at me sadly, for I'm sure she could tell the pain I was holding in my heart.

"How was your journey?" she asked, reaching across and squeezing my hand reassuringly.

I hesitated as the tears threatened to emerge. "It was difficult," I finally replied. "Eragon and Saphira have gone to the east, and I don't know when we will see each other again. But I'm holding up as well as I can."

"You are strong, Tabatha. And Amera is here to help you. The two of you will get through this, I know you will." I thanked her quietly and hung my head, staring at my fingers where they fiddled in my lap. "Come," she said very suddenly in a lighter tone, "let us talk of things that do not weigh so heavily on us." I looked up and offered her a small smile.

"Very well," I conceded.

"Tell me about your new position here at court," she said, folding the book closed and setting it aside.

"I don't know much about it right now," I admitted. "I'm supposed to talk to the queen soon so we can hammer out the details, but I think my job will be mainly to speak on Eragon's behalf while he is away, in matters of the state. And I'll help to keep the peace, of course, if there are any more uprisings. Then, when the time comes that an egg hatches for a new Rider, I will take them to Eragon and Saphira. We'll keep in touch through scrying mirrors."

"Sounds exciting," she said. I could tell she was trying to make me feel better, but I wasn't sure if it was working.

"Mother, can I ask you something?" Her face fell slightly, but she nodded all the same. "Are there any more Priestesses, like us? Or did the king wipe them all out?" I hoped this wasn't too sensitive a subject for her to talk about. She looked away from me, her eyes trained on the crackling flames but not really focused, as though her mind was far away from this place.

"When I was a girl," she began slowly, her brow furrowed as she dwelled in the past, "there was a communication network between the Priestesses, all across this land. We could keep in almost constant contact through the use of spells and the sending of messages through the Elder Priestesses. Many of the larger towns and cities had an Elder Priestess, sometimes more than one. Their powers were stronger, and they could communicate over long distances with one another.

"But as Galbatorix came to power, the letters and messages became fewer and fewer, until they stopped altogether. There were whispers that I caught wind of; a sect of fanatics that had long ago holed themselves away from the world in the event that our people would be targeted, and wiped out. But I could never divine the truth of those rumors. They were stories we told one another as children.

"If the rumors are true, however, they would be in the Northeast." She looked back at me, her eyes strangely hardened. "That was where the Elder Priestesses always said we came from, and the rumors were that they had returned to our homeland. These rumors have been around for hundreds of years, Tabatha. If they ever were true at one point, I could not say if these Priestesses still remain." I stayed quiet for a long time, chewing on my own thoughts. Finally, she said, "What are you thinking of doing, Tabatha?"

"I want to find them," I whispered. "As I work to rebuild the Riders, I also wish to bring back our order. The Priestesses could do real good in this world, and I would not see our people die out. If I am the last, then so be it. But until I know for sure, I cannot sit idly by."

"Any daughters you have will more than likely be Priestesses, Tabatha, I do not—"

"I'm not so sure that is the path laid out before me, Mother," I cut her off, not unkindly. "There is no guarantee I will ever have children, and I cannot rest on such an uncertainty." She clamped her mouth shut, but then nodded stoically.

"Very well," she said quietly. "I am beginning to learn a few things about you, Tabatha. And I am amused to see that many of those things remind me greatly of myself. When you set your mind to something, there's no persuading you, is there?" I shook my head and smiled slightly at the fondness in her tone.

"No, there is not," I affirmed. "But I will not go on such a journey for some time. There are things here I must take care of first; I want to ensure you are settled before I go anywhere." I saw a light come into my mother's eyes, and then she looked away from me, though the smile upon her face did not escape my notice. "What is it?" I asked her pointedly.

"You worry too much about me," she said quietly.

"Well, I believed you dead for the last seventeen years, and then come to find out you were being held captive and tortured, so I think I have every right to worry," I replied smartly.

"I don't want you to worry that I won't be taken care of," she continued softly, finally looking back up at my face. "Braeden... Well, he's insisting on never letting me out of his sight ever again." She laughed slightly, but I could tell she was nervous.

"Mother..." My voice came out in a breathless whisper. "Are you saying—?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding quickly. "Braeden has asked me to marry him. I told him I did not think I was ready for that yet, but in time... I think I could. I have loved him as long as I can remember, though I was too much of a fool to admit it."

"That's wonderful, Mother," I said excitedly, bounding up out of the chair and leaning over to wrap my arms around her neck. I pulled away and then sat back on the edge of the chair. "But where will you live? Will you return to Carvahall? Or to Surda, where his estate lies?"

"We haven't quite figured that out yet," she laughed. "This all happened so suddenly, I'm still trying to wrap my head around it." My heart was soaring with happiness. With Lord Braeden at my mother's side, I knew she would want for nothing, and he would protect her. It was hard to believe, but after so many years of strife and pain, they would finally find their happiness.

We talked a while longer, well past the midnight hour and into the early morning. But when I did finally retire to bed, it was with a new sense of hope for the future. Things were aligning the way they were supposed to, and my spirit was lifted because of it. Tomorrow, I would journey back to my home and help it rebuild, the way this entire nation would be rebuilding. And for the first time in many months, the future looked a little bit brighter.

 

* * *

 

Ismira was squalling as Amera landed in the common pasture; I could hear the girl from a hundred yards away, she was so loud, and I instantly felt sorry for Katrina and Roran. I knew they hadn't gotten much sleep since we left the capital nearly a week ago, because the baby girl was so fussy. Hopefully, now that they would start becoming settled, she would settle down too.

Soon after we landed, the rest of the village appeared on the road leading into town, hauling their worldly goods back to their desolated home. Amera sat herself down, waiting to be told what to do while I leaned up against her foreleg.

_They look happy,_ she observed. _I have not seen them this happy since... I do not think I have ever seen them this happy, come to think of it._ She snorted, letting out a puff of smoke from her nostrils.

_I'm inclined to agree with you. They have such hope for this place, and it's good to see._

_Where will we start?_ she asked, flicking her tail around in front of her like a cat.

_The first order of business will be to erect some temporary shelter, until their homes can be rebuilt,_ I explained. _Then after that, we will try to put everything back the way it was, only better this time. We'll make sure the town has some actual defenses, so nothing like this can ever happen again. Farms and shops and homes will be rebuilt better than before. Nothing will ever be the same for this little town._

_They deserve it, after what they have all been through,_ she said quietly.

_Yes, yes they do._ Roran met us on the green, dropping his pack at his feet with an exaggerated huff.

"The villagers wish to rest for a bit," he said in between breaths, "but we'll get started right away. We have the materials needed for tents, but we're running a bit low on food."

"Amera and I can go hunting in the mountains while you all get the tents set up," I offered, pushing off her leg to stand up straight.

"That would be very helpful, thank you." He fell quiet, and I could tell there was more he wished to say, though he was deciding on the words to use. "We are grateful for everything you've done, Tabby," he said, quieter now than before. "I do not know how we can thank you enough. Not just for coming to help us rebuild the town, but for all of it, the—"

"The best way to thank me," I cut him off, placing a hand on his burly shoulder, "is to not treat me any differently than you did before."

"Well, I can't do that," he said with a laugh. "You're a Rider, and owed respect apart from everything you've done."

"How about this then?" I offered. "It would be thanks enough that I could call you brother, and I would be a godmother to your daughter." We'd known one another for a very long time, and I already viewed him as my brother. With a smile, he nodded and wrapped me in a crushing hug.

"That will do," he agreed, letting me go and allowing air to rush back into my lungs. "We'll see you upon your return."

_I caught the scent of a herd of deer on our way in,_ Amera said with a nudge at my shoulder, _I'm sure I could track them down._

_Let's get going then,_ I told her, climbing back up into her saddle while those villagers gathering on the green moved to clear a space. Amera pushed powerfully with her back legs, vaulting us into the air and above the ruins of my old home. She circled above a few times, sniffing at the air to try and track down her prey, and then headed southeast, back the way we came. _Amera,_ I suddenly said, _hold on a moment. Set down on that cliff up there._ I directed her with an image of the place I wished to go, and she angled herself so we hovered over the cliff top. With a thud, she dropped to the ground, jarring my bones.

_What are we doing up here, little one?_ she asked me in concern.

_I just want to look for a moment,_ I explained, climbing carefully down from the saddle. The drop had caused me to become a little lightheaded.

Next to us, the raging waters of the Igualda Falls plummeted down off the cliff face, landing in a pool a half mile below us. The white noise of the falls helped to clear my mind, and I breathed the thin air deeply. From up here, I could see every bit of what used to be Carvahall. The villagers hurried around the common pasture, or what was left of it, preparing to raise their tents that would act as temporary homes until they could rebuild. Somewhere, I could smell a fire starting. Voices of people and animals alike called to one another across the open area.

_What are you thinking?_ Amera asked me softly.

_I am wondering at what lies ahead of us,_ I admitted, placing a hand upon the side of her head. She hummed softly at my touch, vibrating my fingers where they stroked her violet and silver scales. _The world is such a different place from what it was only a few years ago. How can so much change in such a little amount of time?_

_Change can happen in an instant; it is the constant unwavering of everyday life that takes so much time to develop. You two-legs are creatures of habit, and you get entrenched in your routines. But a little change is good, every now and then. It makes things not so tiresome,_ she said wisely.

I took a deep breath once more, letting my eyes roam over the landscape below us. Something about this place spoke to my soul, and I realized in that moment that I would never truly be parted from it. Not in spirit, at least. This was my home, although it had taken me this long to realize that. I felt grounded here, and I could think more clearly. My whole life had been shrouded in lies and secrets, but this place was the only thing that had not wavered.

_I am glad you're here with me, Amera,_ I said.

_So am I, little one._ She nudged me softly with her snout. _Shall we hunt?_ I nodded and returned to my place upon her back. She got a running start from right up against the mountain, and lunged off the edge of the cliff. I let out a joyous laugh at the absolute feeling of freedom I got from flying with her, my-partner-of-heart-and-mind.

Though the uncertainties of our future stretched out before us, everything seemed to be turning out the way it was supposed to. Although the man I loved was far away from me, and my best friend since childhood had started upon his own life's journey, I could still say that I was happy.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was not afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more part! Please review and tell me what you think! And who knows? Maybe with enough reviews I can be persuaded to publish the final part early! Thank you all so much for reading!


	72. Epilogue: Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the epilogue to my Inheritance Cycle epic; the final, final part. I'll be honest: I cried while writing this chapter. After dedicating so much time and energy to this story, it's hard for me to believe it's actually come to its end. I hope it turns out to be worthy of all the love and support you all have offered me over the last six years. Enjoy this final installment.

_Ten years later..._

Time has a funny way of getting away from you. One moment, your whole life can be laid out before you, and you might think you have everything planned and figured out. But the next... Well, if the last ten years of my life have taught me anything, it's that life can change in an instant. A wise man once told me that life is a storm. It will have you basking in the sun one moment, and shatter you upon the rocks in the next. But what defines you is what you do when that storm comes. As for me, I have handled it the best I can. It has been difficult, to be sure, but with my friends and family by my side, I have found it to be much easier than it otherwise might have been.

I'd just returned from the east; from Eragon's sanctuary for the Riders, which he calls _Nyr Elding,_ or "New Dawn" in the common speech. And it has been a new dawn for the Riders ever since he went away. They number five, as it stands right now, the little dwarf girl I just took to join them being the newest of our order. They are all so eager to learn, but even the oldest of them does not yet realize what a great responsibility they have been given. I smile as I think about them; "the younglings" Amera calls them, even though some are not so much younger than Eragon and I, and Támsin is older than both of us combined. But our experiences have aged us.

"Where is your mind today?" Nasuada's voice snapped me away from my thoughts and gazing out the window. We sat in her study that overlooked the gardens, each of us with our own tasks. Elva worked silently on her needlepoint in the corner, far away from any of the windows. The paperwork I had been looking over sits abandoned in my lap, forgotten in the wake of my excitement.

"Far away from here," I laughed at her. She offered me a small smile, but quickly returned her gaze to the edicts strewn across her desk. Their number seems to grow every day, as does the queen's worry. Her brow creased in concentration, and I noticed as one of her hands came to rest upon her swollen belly. The next addition to the royal family was expected to arrive any day now, but even the king can not convince Nasuada to let her duties rest for a while. She is determined above all else.

"Today's the day, isn't it?" she asked after a moment's silence.

I returned my gaze to the window, letting the sunlight filtering through warm my skin. "Yes, it is," I said softly. "Speaking of which, I must be going. It's growing close to sundown."

"Good luck to you, Tabatha," she called as I crossed the room and left her. It took me until I was halfway down the hallway to realize I never responded. But I was too excited to care right now. My hands trembled slightly and my heart raced in my chest, as though it was like to burst out at any moment.

The few people I passed in the halls bowed slightly when I walked by, but I paid them no mind. My feet seemed to move faster of their own accord. Since it's a special day, I thought I would wear a nice gown for the occasion, but the fabric was getting in my way as I hurried along. I hiked the skirt up around my knees to go faster, eventually making my way out of the citadel and through the castle gates.

In the late afternoon light, the whole city seemed veiled in a soft orange glow. Three years ago, the magicians of The Coalition finally completed their task of removing the unsightly overhang that used to cover the city. In these years of peace, Nasuada wished to show that she was not afraid, and that the Riders were back to their intended purpose of keeping the peace throughout the land. I agreed with her about removing the overhang, but others were less inclined to do the same. They still clung to the fear that the past would repeat itself, but Nasuada retained her hope, as she always has.

It was market day in the quadrangle today, but the merchants were beginning to pack up their wares and stalls now. With the sun in its descent, the city's inhabitants would be making their way to their homes, or to the taverns and drinkhouses. But I had a different destination in mind.

Within minutes, I was speeding through the main gates of the city, bolting past those who shuffled in and out. A few of them glanced my way, but most went about their business. I ran as fast as I could along the wall, the great hill that abutted Ilirea looming up before me. Soon, the pathway that leads to the top appeared before me. It was hidden so that you don't know it's there until you're right upon it, but I was familiar with this path after treading it hundreds of times before.

The top of the hill was my favorite place to come when I needed to be alone, and when I could actually get away, which was not often these days. After a few more minutes of sprinting up the path, I reached the summit of the hill, the dying light of the sun immediately hitting my eyes. The view from up here is breathtaking; you can see for miles and miles around the city, and even catch a glimpse of a few of the smaller outlying towns. The wind whipped at my skirt, blowing it about my legs in a frenzy of motion. In the west, the sun was dipping below the horizon. _This is it._

_Amera,_ I called out with my mind, _where are you?_

_We are hurrying!_ came the frantic response. I only hoped they will not miss it. Quickly, I walked across the wide summit, to the most northwesterly point I could reach without plummeting down the side of the hill. I stood upon the rocky outcrop, shielding my eyes from the blinding sun with my hand. Scanning the horizon, I was glad to find that it was not too late yet.

_You'd_ better _hurry,_ I said pointedly, _or you're going to miss it._

_Leaving the dragon hold now,_ she replied quickly. I smiled as I felt her own nervousness and excitement wash over me. We had waited so long for this day that we'd begun to believe it might never come. And now that it had, I could hardly contain myself. A few more moments passed by, and I could sense her growing ever closer. _What's taking her so long?_

Suddenly, I felt a rush of air come up from underneath me, and then her huge violet form streaked past me towards the sky. With a shout and a laugh, I watched as she barrel rolled in the air, and then circled slowly down to land upon the summit. She folded her wings against her body, and I could hear her laughing in that odd way that dragons have. After all this time, she was still a show off.

"Did you see us!" a voice called loudly, colored with excitement. The little boy that sat upon her back poked his head around her thick neck to grin at me mischievously. I walked over to the pair of them quickly, and I couldn't help the smile that graced my face.

"Yes," I said in as disapproving a tone as I could muster, "I saw the both of you. And you know I don't like it when you do that."

_We're just having a bit of fun,_ Amera pouted. _You never let us have any._

_That isn't true at all!_ I replied with false hurt in my voice. I watched as the little boy struggled with the bulky straps around his legs.

"Mother, I'm stuck! Help me!" he cried. I let out a laugh and climbed part of the way up Amera's leg, balancing on her shin as I worked at the straps on his right leg, while he worked at the left side. "This saddle is too big," he continued once he was free.

"You'll grow into it," I assured him. I held out my arms to him, waiting for my son to jump into my arms as he always does after he and Amera go for a flight. He flung himself out of the saddle with a joyous laugh, trusting so completely that I will catch him every time. And I always do.

We climbed back down Amera's leg 'til we were on solid ground, and then she shook herself like some great beast of a dog, unfurling her wings as the sails of a ship would when they catch the wind. She's so big now, it was sometimes hard to believe she'd ever been tiny enough to hold in my arms. "Tell me about your lessons today," I said, turning away from my dragon. "What did you learn?" He looked up at me with stark grey eyes and took hold of my hand when I reached out for him.

"The same thing as the day before, and the day before that, and the day―"

"Tornac," I chided him softly.

"Master Jeod is so boring, Mother," he complained. "Can't I have a new tutor?"

"Master Jeod is the smartest man in all of Alagaësia," I reminded him. "You should be proud that he is your tutor. Tell me, what does Prince Ajihad think of him?"

Tornac shrugged his shoulders slightly. "He thinks he's old and stodgy." I had to laugh at the fact that the word "stodgy" had just come out of my nine-year-old's mouth. We stood upon the outcrop at the edge of the hill, and I felt a slight tug on my hand. "Mother?" Tornac asked in a more serious tone. "What are we doing here?"

I knelt down in front of my son, stroking his dark hair and his cheek. My heart swelled with joy in this moment, but I had to try and contain it. "We're here to meet someone very special, Tornac." I tool hold of his hand once more, toying with the bracelet of violet and red he always wore around his small wrist. It looked as new as the day Murtagh gave it to me.

"All the way up here?"

"Yes," I said with a chuckle, "all the way up here." Suddenly, I heard Amera growling deep in her chest, vibrating the rocks we stood upon.

_Tabatha,_ she whispered. And when I looked at her, I saw her silver eyes trained on the horizon. Slowly, I stood and took hold of Tornac's hand in mine. We three looked toward the treeline in the distance, where Amera's eyes were still focused. There was a stirring within my soul, a culmination of feelings I had built up over many years, and they have to be released someway, somehow. A tear escaped my eye, tracing its way down my cheek, and I felt myself squeeze Tornac's hand a little tighter.

"Who is it?" he asked excitedly, though I was sure he already knew the answer.

There are many things I wished to say in this moment, but I found that no words came to my lips. It hadn't been easy for my son, and I tried to shield him from any hurt to the best of my ability. Nasuada counseled me the best she could, and I always made the decision I thought was best. But now... My breath caught in my throat when I saw that form on the horizon, blood red scales flashing brilliantly as the sun disappeared. In that moment, I knew I had to answer my son with the truth.

"Your father, Tornac," I said in a breathy whisper. "He's come home."

"My… my father?" Tornac's voice sounded suddenly very weak. "But I thought you said—"

"I am sorry," I said quickly, kneeling once again in front of my son. His eyes betrayed his confusion, and I felt a pang of guilt go through my chest. "There are many things I need to tell you. But right now, I want you to stay next to Amera. Can you do that for me?" Tornac's gaze fluttered quickly between me and the rapidly approaching form of Thorn and Murtagh. But, after a moment's hesitation, he nodded slowly. I planted a kiss on his forehead and whispered a quiet 'thank you' before steering him towards Amera and behind her foreleg.

Suddenly, I was regretting the decisions I had made.

But it was too late for any of that. Murtagh and Thorn were almost upon us, and I was going to have to reconcile with this here and now. Thorn's huge, red body sailed over the summit of the hill, nearly knocking me over with the force of the wind his wings produced. With an earth-shaking thud, Thorn came to land on the top of the hill, flexing his wings and then drawing them to his sides.

It felt like I couldn't breathe. Ten years had passed… Ten years of living apart from one another, as I raised our son with the belief that his father wasn't coming back. How could I have known? I never wanted to give him false hope, and yet… and yet here he was. Murtagh quickly dismounted Thorn's back, balancing down his leg until he could jump safely to the ground. He stood there for a moment, just looking at me.

It was as if only a day had passed; the only indication that time had separated us for so long was the size of our dragons. They were both of them gigantic, the size of manor houses or castles. But Murtagh looked exactly the same as the day he'd left.

My heart hammered in my chest, pounding blood through my body so it rushed to my head and pulsed through my ears, drowning out any other noise or thought. I took a step forward on shaky legs, willing my strength to hold. He was here… I couldn't believe he was here.

Murtagh moved quicker than I did, eliminating the space between us in a few hurried steps. I looked up at him, not trusting my voice to speak. But before I could think of anything to say, his hands were on either side of my face, drawing me towards him. Our lips met and it was like a spark erupted throughout my whole body, setting my nerves on fire and my mind to racing.

In that instant, the past ten years melted away. It was as though we'd never been parted. He was here with me, finally. Holding me; kissing me; loving me the way I'd yearned for him to for so long. My eyes were slammed shut, only because I feared that if I opened them I'd wake to find this all a dream. Tears escaped through my closed lids, tracing down my cheeks and mingling with our kiss.

He pulled away then, resting his forehead on mine and breathing heavily, as though he too was worried this was all just a vision. "Tabatha," he whispered, sending shivers down my spine.

"Can you really be here?" I asked weakly, feeling my voice shake in my throat from my raw emotion. "Have you come back to me?"

"I have... and I will never leave again," he replied firmly. I wrapped my arms around his neck as he drew me into his chest, squeezing and holding me as though I were the only thing he really knew. "There's… there's so much I wish to say," he stammered out, tightening his grip around me. "I don't know where to begin." He laughed slightly through the emotion I heard coloring his voice, but my heart dropped into my stomach.

"Murtagh," I said quietly, "before you say anything, there is something I must tell you." I felt him stiffen slightly at the tone of my voice, and he drew away from me a little bit. His brow was drawn together slightly in confusion and concern. I took a moment to inspect his face as I tried to decide how to say this.  
There was a new scar along the right side of his jaw that I didn't remember being there before. And while his face remained largely unchanged, the most marked difference was in his eyes. They'd always been intense, with their stark grey color and focus, but now they seemed different. Sadder, even than they had been before, as though he had seen too much in his time away. But there was also a new happiness there, something I had only rarely seen in our time together.

"Whatever it is," he said slowly, "we will get through it together. Can it wait until we are settled?" There was such hope in his face and in his voice, and I wanted nothing more than to grant him that wish.

But this could not wait.

"No, I'm afraid it cannot," I replied. How to say this? How to tell him that I kept this secret from him for ten years? I hadn't wanted to worry him, and I didn't want to influence him to come back before they were ready. His brow furrowed even further, but he waited for me to continue, not pushing me before I was ready. "Before I tell you," I continued quietly, "I need you to understand that I made the decision I thought was best. There were too many factors… too many things and people to consider, and I did what I thought I had to."

"You are frightening me, Tabatha," he whispered desperately, tightening his grip on my shoulders.

"I am sorry," I choked out past my tears, feeling my hands begin to tremble. But there was nothing more I could say. And so, I stepped away and took his large, calloused hand in mine, leading him over to where Amera was still standing. I could tell she desperately wanted to rush to Thorn's side, but I had asked her to stay put, to conceal my deception. And she had agreed.

I squeezed Murtagh's hand tightly, wiping away the tears that blurred my vision. We stopped right in front of Amera, and I thought my heart was like to burst out of my chest.

"Tabatha, what—?"

"Please," I cut him off quietly, turning to look at him and then taking a step away. "Don't say anything. Just look." There were a hundred questions running through his mind; I could see it on his face. But the only way to answer them was to show him. I turned back towards Amera and leaned just the slightest bit forward, so I could see my son. He was leaning against Amera's side, and I could tell he was afraid. "You can come out now," I whispered, extending my hand. I'd never led him astray thus far, and Tornac knew it.

And so, with hesitant steps, Tornac came out from behind Amera, standing in front of me and timidly looking up at the father he'd never known.

The shock was evident on Murtagh's face, and I could tell there was so much he wanted to say. His mouth gaped open, moving as though he was trying to speak but no words would come. He stared at Tornac in wide-eyed disbelief, and I could feel my son drawing further against me. "Murtagh," I said as calmly as I could, "this is Tornac… your son."

Murtagh took a step forward, still staring at the little boy who was his double, in both appearance and attitude. I urged Tornac to walk further, but only slightly. "My… m-my son?" Murtagh asked, his voice colored with confusion. His gaze flicked between me and Tornac rapidly, but my tears had stolen away my voice, and so I could only nod.

"Mother?" Tornac was looking up at me, and I could tell he was uncertain. "I don't understand…"

"I know, Tornac," I said softly, leaning down and stroking his hair in comfort. "I will explain everything, I promise. Can you say 'hello'?" I gestured to Murtagh where he still stood frozen in shock.

Tornac looked over at him, still unsure. But he mustered enough courage to say a timid, "Hello." That one word seemed to break him, for Murtagh's mask of disbelief fell, and his shoulders began to tremble.

"Hello," he replied shakily. But there was a smile upon his face now. Slowly, he sank to a crouching position, so that they could look one another in the eye. "Do you know who I am?"

Tornac nodded slowly. "You're my father," he replied.

"That's right," Murtagh said, extending an arm towards the boy. "I'm your… your father." The way Murtagh said the word "father" betrayed the apprehension he was feeling. But that fear was eclipsed by the joy I saw in his eyes. Slowly and tentatively, Tornac walked towards Murtagh where he knelt upon the ground. He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at me, but I nodded him along in encouragement.

"It's alright," I added. He turned back to Murtagh, and walked the rest of the way towards him. Murtagh placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, but he didn't make any further move, waiting for Tornac to feel comfortable.

The little boy inspected his father's face for a moment, putting a hand up to his clean-shaven cheek and running his fingers over his face. As I watched them in silence, I could see the tension leaving Tornac's body. Finally, he said, "Father?" and I could hear the smile in his voice.

Murtagh enveloped him in a hug then, drawing him into his shoulder and wrapping his strong arms around the little boy. There were tears in his eyes, just as there were tears streaming down my face. This moment had been ten years in the making. I'd run through hypothetical scenarios nearly every day since the moment I'd first learned that I was pregnant. But none of my wildest dreams could have prepared me for the pure and utter joy I was feeling right now.

I saw Murtagh look up at me over Tornac's shoulder, and he laughed through his tears, bringing a smile to my face. I walked over to the two of them, and fell to my knees beside them as I placed one hand on Murtagh's shoulder, and the other on Tornac's. Murtagh moved one of his arms around me, pulling me into his chest as well, and I began to cry in earnest, though it was mixed with joyous laughter. It seemed I couldn't decide whether I wanted to laugh or cry.

Though I knew there was still a very serious conversation ahead of us, in this moment, none of that seemed to matter. We were together for the first time, as a family. And nothing could ever take away this happiness I felt. All of the trials and tribulations I'd faced in the wake of Murtagh's departure had led to this moment. And it was worth every ounce of pain to see Murtagh embracing our son with the pure light of joy in his eyes. As our eyes met, I realized I'd never seen him so happy before.

And in the light of the dying sun, our family had finally been reunited, ready to face whatever trials and joys the future held.

* * *

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. There will, one day, be a sequel. I'm not sure when that day will be, but it WILL HAPPEN. So for now, this chapter of Tabatha's story is over. I would love to hear your feedback. Once again, from the bottom of my heart, thank you!


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